#so i saw no point in worship or prayers

[4uru]

I'm pretty sure me being a child of divorce also has smth to do with me being an atheist.

Even though I wasn't raised to be that religious (I was reading the Qur'an atp but I saw it as a thing to be studied and they didn't tell me the meaning, i could just recite it) But idk having your view of love, respect, trust, relationships and the world on the day you turn 8 does smth to a bitch.

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 19: (Smut)

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes is a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: The plot thickens (the plot is Azriel's cock). And now, Nyra knows.

Warnings: smut, full-blown smut, Azirel's hands, Azriel's fingers, oral sex (female receiving), minors please stay away.

Author's message: A very huge thank you to my newest beta readers for Eye of the Storm @div94 and @seasonallyapril ✨✨ I could not come up with the title of the chapter 😂😂

@feerique always and eternally grateful to you!!✨✨

Word count: 3.3k (Enjoy!!)

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

You’re the Mother’s most beautiful creation. Azriel’s voice reverberated through their connection as he looked at her. 

And he was thankful that she was here, choosing him.

To undress her.

To part her thighs.

It was an honour of the highest level. 

And patience was something he thought he wouldn’t have with Nyra once he got his chance. But even then, the sense of wonder remained as he saw and touched his mate for the first time. 

His scarred fingers touched her inner thighs, pressing and rubbing the skin gently and firmly. Touching her felt like some form of salvation. 

Even more so as she gasped his name. Like it was a prayer. 

His name sounded like a prayer. 

And she was wet. 

He pressed his thumb against her slit and gently dragged it upwards. He could feel her clit and hear the gasps his touch induced. His hands came to the underside of her thighs and dragged her to the edge of the bed. 

And with all the gentleness he could muster, he brought his tongue from the end and dragged it through her slit, taking a generous taste of her. 

Such a fucking delicacy. After that, there was no stopping him. 

He’d had a taste.

And he was thirsting for more. 

Thank you for the meal. And he began feasting. 

Azriel had a wicked mouth. A really wicked one. Because the precision with which the male was targeting her clit had Nyra trembling like a leaf. 

His tongue teased her slowly, gently. And just when she wanted to tell him that she wanted more, she felt one of his fingers slowly enter her pussy. 

A moan escaped her at the intrusion, it being slightly painful in the beginning and bringing much more pleasure afterwards. 

And he began pulling the finger out, making her whimper. He pushed it back again. 

And this time, in her desperation, Nyra clenched around that finger. Such a good girl. All ready to clench around my cock like that. 

In between her pleasure, Nyra was quite shocked at the dirty talk. Since when was he talkative in this manner?

I want to talk to you. She heard his response. His tongue flicked her clit. Another finger slowly entered her, disappearing knuckle-deep inside her with the first. She moaned again. And when you make sounds like that, I want to tell you all about my depraved fantasies. 

It was a swirl of different points of pleasure uniting in her abdomen. His mouth, his fingers, the shadows. 

It was overwhelming. He had her laid down on the bed, legs spread nicely for him before he kneeled and began worshipping her with his mouth, feasting on her like he’d been craving for her his entire life. 

His fingers were slowly moving, as if to savour the moment. They were definitely larger and thicker than her own. And the scars felt so undeniably good, it felt like sin. 

Her body arched and twisted. “Azriel.” 

Let me quench my thirst. And as long as she didn’t interrupt his feast, Azriel allowed her movements. His hold on her thigh, his scars. How perfect they were. 

Her breasts ached for his hands. Every part of her ached for his hands.She wanted them on her shoulders, waist, hips, her hair. She wanted him to grab her skin roughly and not simply graze and tease her skin. 

Her want was becoming unbearable with Azriel only paying attention to her cunt. 

But even that part of her ached. She wanted him for two years and every intimate touch on her body seemed like a poor substitute to a hypothetical situation where they would’ve fucked each other.

Not so hypothetical anymore, don’t you think? He sounded confident. She liked it.

Thank you for the reality. Her snarky response earned her a bite on the inner thigh. 

Interested in remaining a brat?

Only if you’re going to fuck it out of me. 

Azriel stilled at her reply. She looked at him and found him looking at her with wide eyes. She began worrying, her upper body rising and a hand extending to touch his cheek. “What happened?” 

He leaned into her palm, eyes closing in contentment. And then he looked at her. “Have you always been such a dirty girl?”

She smiled teasingly. “And what if I have?” 

Azriel grabbed the side of her throat, his thumb on her jaw and angled her face the way he wanted to kiss her. His hand slid across her jawline, disappearing into her thick curls, fingers weaving themselves into her hair before he pulled.

Her breasts pressed against him, ridding him of reason. 

Why was she still wearing that bra?

Not that he had many complaints about how she looked in black lace but it should have been disposed of by now.

Even with Nyra sitting on the bed and Azriel kneeling at the side of it, he was taller. And larger. And so much warmer. His wings trembled before relaxing and spreading as much as they could. The shadows played with her hair and neck and she pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. 

How are you feeling? The question came as a surprise to her. 

Nyra pulled back to look him in the eye.There was no doubt that they were both ravenous for each other. Azriel with one hand in her hair and one gripping the flesh of her waist and Nyra with both hands around his neck. 

Quite satisfied. Thank you very much. She smiled against his lips when he chuckled. 

“Tell the shadows when you want to stop.” He knew fully well that he was not going to stop on his own. That he couldn’t stop on his own even if he wanted to.

"All right." The shadows would be her safeguard. They’d been given the order to place her commands over his. But then, a mischievous one snipped the straps of her bra. 

A few more bold tendrils removed the remnants of her bra, as if they were presenting their mistress’s breasts for the view. And Azriel remained in stunned silence, looking at her breasts, wondering if he was hallucinating. 

He pinched a nipple and Nyra whimpered. 

Gods. These breasts were real. He wasn’t imagining them. 

He kissed her softly. “My darling goddess.”

She moaned into his mouth. And all the softness in their kiss went to hell as he began devouring her. 

Azriel slowly descended to her breasts, leaving the evidence of his mouth behind in the form of dark marks and saliva. 

“So fucking pretty.” His mouth latched on to a nipple. Gods. Her breasts had aroused another level of obsession. 

Soft breasts. Pretty nipples. Azriel was pleased his shadows agreed. He’d take his time with these wonderful breasts and it’d never be enough. 

“Azriel.” He loved his name. Loved how she called him. How she moaned it. Fuck. 

Every sound she made, every breath she took—all of it went straight to his cock. 

A particularly harsh suck and her body arched for him, pushing those perfect breasts into his face. His gratitude was at its highest. When are you ever going to stop surprising me with your beauty?

What? Her voice through that connection was nearly enough to make him come. 

Your breasts are beautiful. Azriel met her gaze, still under the haze of his own admiration.

Thank- Oh! She moaned through that connection. And Azriel felt a pull against his chest. He needed to feel that again. So he got to work. 

He thanked the cauldron everyday for his mate. He knew he’d have a hard time restraining himself from grabbing her at every second, waking or otherwise. 

But his cock had other priorities. He needed to be inside her. He needed that pretty pussy clenching around his cock, squeezing him till he came inside her. 

Mistress. Mistress. Mistress. Many shadows began calling her. May we touch your breasts? Please. Please. Please. 

Yes. And the shadows nearly covered all of her breasts. Their caress was cool against her skin. Her eyes closed and she enjoyed it. 

She was beginning to get used to this. To the shadows touching her intimately. Their gentle, teasing touch. A gasp escaped her when they began teasing her nipples. 

Did you forget me already? Azriel continued to radiate warmth, a contradiction to the cool shadows he commanded. 

Maybe. She peered up at him and she thought she’d be too shy to maintain eye contact but fuck, he was such a breathtaking sight. 

A layer of sweat on his tanned skin made it gleam. His gaze was an arresting sensation. Mouth wet from their kiss and the time he spent between her legs. 

Azriel looked very much eager to touch her more. I am. He conceded. I want to touch you, Nyra. To give you pleasure in every manner possible. 

A hand came towards her breast and the shadows cleared away, revealing it for him. 

She sighed at the feeling of his scars on her. Her nipple grazed the uneven layers of his skin, back bowing in satisfaction. 

Azriel leaned in towards the other, the shadows once again clearing away for him before his mouth kissed the other nipple. 

Nyra was overwhelmingly eager for Azriel’s cock. And the male was busy feasting on her breasts as if he could actually eat them to satiate his hunger. 

And then he was crawling above, pressing that thick, veiny cock on her belly. Her hand found it and she cherished his groan as she pumped it. 

“When?” She demanded. And his gaze flared with realisation. 

Azriel felt it all. 

Felt her desire for him. 

Felt her desire for his hands.

His scarred hands.

His cock.

She was far too alluring for him to retain any of his senses. And he let himself be led by what he desired and what he could feel from her. 

The shadowsinger lifted her from the edge of the bed and threw her towards the middle of the bed. At the sign of no longer being treated as a delicate creature, Nyra felt her enthusiasm hike up. 

Azriel loomed over her, effectively separating her from the world. His wings spread before they rested on the bed, cocooning them in the dark with very little light but enough to see each other’s faces and make out where parts of their body might be. 

She brought her hand to his cheek and Azriel kissed her.

I’ve waited for you for far longer than I thought possible. Five hundred and seven years, two months, one week, and three days. He didn’t know if he could ever tell her. 

And the way Nyra was looking at him, all attracted to him. It went to his ego and by extension, his cock. 

His cock was easily pressed against that belly. Gods, he could nearly feel it. He pumped his cock a couple of times before he brought it to her thighs. “Spread your legs.” 

She obeyed, her impatience and desire now palpable. 

“Further.” He commanded gently, firmly. She complied. 

His tip touched her clit and gently dragged down the wet slit and found where he’d enter her. 

“Hold on.” He rasped, unable to contain his own pleasure as he began pushing in. 

Nyra felt the stinging sensation as his cock entered her. He was far thicker than she’d expected even when she’d felt it against him and touched it. Breathing was a task and it was difficult given how Azriel was literally taking her breath away with every inch of him that entered her. 

Nyra cried and gasped and moaned at the intrusion as it slowly happened. Her hands were clutching at the flesh of his back and his arm. “Azriel.”

She’d cry. She’d definitely cry. Why was he so thick? It hurt and yet, the pain was fading away into pleasure so overwhelming she knew she’d sink and drown and die in it. 

Above her, Azriel was hauling the air in, gasping at the sheer warmth of Nyra’s pretty cunt. He bit her ear and then bit her neck. Holy gods, he was not even completely inside and he was holding on to the sheets to somehow not come. 

He’d expected pleasure. Was greedy for it. The shadows would sometimes randomly rant about something they’d studied about mates and the sexual part of it always had him hard. Studies written about how sex with mates was far more pleasurable and had an intimacy and depth because of the bond. 

And right now, he couldn’t help but agree. 

“Az.” She whined. “Why are you not moving?” 

It was a normal question. Something that she’d ask naturally since he was inside her and had gone completely still. 

Azriel still needed to breathe. He looked at her pretty face, pleasure written all over it. “Because I’m not in completely.” 

A filthy groan escaped him when he felt her clench around his cock. At the same time, she’d whimpered. “You want all of me?” He asked hoarsely. 

Yes. Her consent surrounded his senses through their bond. And Azriel sheathed himself in a quick thrust, eliciting moans from both of them. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was too good to be real. Her pussy was tight and warm around him. 

The mating bond was pulsing with their pleasure. Azriel pulled himself back and Nyra made a noise of displeasure before he thrusted back in, making her moan obscenely. 

The more pleasure she felt, the more pride entered him. To be able to pleasure his mate, it was an honour. And he began moving, slowly, with patience he didn’t know he had. 

Azriel kissed her cheeks, heard all of her whimpers and cries. The shadows were doing their job of restraining him in case he’d be too much. 

Nyra was so lovely, writhing beneath him, crying and gasping. So endlessly lovely. 

What if he kept her all to himself? 

What if he lived with his cock nestled snugly inside her pussy? 

What if he kept her filled with his cock and came inside her as much as he could? 

Stars above, if that wasn’t heaven, he wasn’t sure what was. 

Nyra was still overwhelmed even with his languid thrusts. It was still difficult to breathe and it was still difficult to adjust to his cock in her. “Please.”

“What do you want?” He sounded hungry. Desperately hungry and he wanted more. She knew that. She wanted him too. 

“I. . anghh. . want more. . harder. . please.” She couldn’t care for the lack of coherency in her request. She moaned again as his cock pushed against something deep and sensitive within her.

Nyra couldn’t hold onto him any longer. Her body no longer had any strength to act according to her. She was pliant and her hands fell to her sides. All she could do was fist the sheets as Azriel continued his pace. 

He halted and kissed her temple. “Are you sure?” 

Nyra looked at him, teary eyed. “Yes.” 

Her response was a mere whisper but Azriel seemed to gain energy from it as he thrusted harshly. And again. And again. 

Nyra’s legs were tightly wrapped around his hips with one of his arms between the small of her back and the mattress, providing a little elevation. His other arm rested near her head, the palm clenched into a fist. 

And as Azriel ruthlessly pounded into her as though only this wild sensation of pleasure mattered, Nyra couldn’t keep her eyes off his arm next to her head. 

The scars and the thick veins and the image of that hand grabbing her breasts, pinching her thighs, smacking her ass, pulling her hair, and those fingers wrapped around her throat was too much. 

Azriel removed himself from her completely, eliciting nothing but a noise of complaint and before she could say anything, he flipped her, raised her ass for him, smacked it hard. 

“What?” She had no clue how her fantasies were being fulfilled so fast. 

A hand found her hair and wrapped it around his fist and Nyra was suddenly pulled up, her back arching. Azriel leaned in, mouth near her. “Spread your legs for me.”

Nyra, with barely any breath and energy, obeyed. Because his voice, that tone she’d never heard before—that bedroom voice—it seemed to have a hold on her body. To make her compliant even when she had barely any energy. She was only thankful for the shadows to help her. 

Azriel entered her harshly from behind and another filthy moan escaped Nyra. 

The hand on her hair ascended and settled in her scalp, appreciative of the silky feeling of her hair. Her head was angled so as to bare her neck to him and let him see her face as much as it was possible. The other hand groped her breast and pulled her against his chest. 

Nyra felt him bite her ear. His tongue then trailed down to her chin and her body jolted at a surprising thrust. His open mouth pressed against the curve of her neck where it joined at the shoulder and Azriel began drilling into her from behind. 

The shadows were simply in charge of ensuring what happened was only out of Nyra’s consent. And if it were too much, they had orders to restrain him. And somewhere along the line, they’d taken it upon themselves to provide support for this position wherever balance would be an issue. 

Neither of them knew anything except for each other. His hand on her scalp went away without notice and reappeared on her belly. It descended and his finger found her clit.

She was just mewling and begging and Azriel complied with every single one of her nearly incomprehensible requests. 

The sound of wet slaps of skin against skin, the feeling of his hips meeting hers, and the way his cock pumped into her, reaching every part Nyra never knew she had, pushing and fucking her into oblivion. Good God, things would never be the same. 

It was a high and she was certain she couldn’t be any more. Her breasts were heavier and more sensitive than ever. Every part of her was. And she’d just reached the summit before she fell. 

Nyra cried out the moment she shattered and came. Her knees gave out but she was only able to remain with the shadows’ help. 

And why wasn’t Azriel stopping? Hadn’t he come yet? 

At this point, she was only for him. Only for his pleasure. 

She slowly raised a hand and touched his cheek. Azriel looked at her and they kissed once. And twice. And again. When are you going to come for me?

“Nyra.” That was the first time he moaned her name. And it brought her to the peak again. And she couldn’t hold it in as she came again, clenching hard on his cock. 

Azriel continued his onslaught for a couple of thrusts more before he came deep inside her. His grip on her breast and her pussy became tighter. 

As his cock softened inside her, he loosened his hold and brought both hands to wrap around her, holding her close. 

The shadows helped them sit on the bed as they caught their breath. The smell of sweat and sex permeated the air. And slowly, they laid down as the black wisps covered them with the blanket. 

Nyra finally opened her eyes and watched him. He was looking at her with ravenous intent, as if he’d take her again as soon as he regained his energy. 

She wanted to kiss him. Feel his warmth on her skin. The shadows helped her snuggle closer. And upon seeing her come close, Azriel moved his hands to accommodate her. 

She was in his arms, both of them still catching their breath. Her eyes shut immediately and she whimpered at the cool sensation of the shadows on her thighs. 

Don’t tease me. I really have no more energy. She’d only accessed that connection to address the shadows but that string was a thick, solid thing, nearly tangible. 

Her eyes opened wide and she met his gaze, and the entire world aligned into place. 

And Azriel knew that Nyra knew. 

TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @impossibelle @esposadomd @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @judig92 @bunnyredgirl @sh4nn @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kattzillaa @ronnieglennn @wallacewillow0773638 @forgiveliv @justdreamstars @donttellthecats @cat-or-kitten @jojodojo02 @wandas-dream @evylynny @weasleyreidstyles @stqrgirlies-blog @why4anne @acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe @macimads @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley @deeshag @footyandformula @nebarious @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @5onedirection5 @hanitastic @sevikas-whore @krowiathemythologynerd @myladysapphire @freyagallileaevans @azrielrot @rcarbo1 @i-am-infinite @latinxbipride @moni-cah @fantanbietsson @julsgrace @angel-graces-world-of-chaos @byunniebaekhyunnie @fhgsvbnh @halo-mystic @motheroffae @sweetorangeblossom

[apomaro-mellow]

His Love Makes Me Beautiful

some a/b/o fluff

Steve knew he was handsome. He knew he was good looking. He'd been told so all his life in many different ways, so visually he was never lacking in confidence. But that confidence had a different flavor when he started being with Eddie. Eddie didn't look at him just like he was a ten out of ten. Eddie looked at him like he was the only man in the world.

He loved Steve with such adoration that it bordered on worship and at first Steve thought it too much but now he basked in it. And if it bordered on worship before, now that he was pregnant Steve felt like Eddie was literally sending up prayers to him.

"Hey there, baby", Eddie pecked Steve's lips as he came into the kitchen. "And hello little baby." He knelt down and kissed Steve's belly three times.

"I think you've increased your knee-dropping by 75% since you knocked me up", Steve smiled as he opened up the cabinet to pull out some syrup.

"You know I can't resist prostrating myself at your altar." Eddie glued himself to Steve's back, taking in a whiff of his sweet vanilla scent that was mingling with the pancakes he was dressing up. "Speaking of..." He turned Steve around lowered down to the ground again.

"Eddie, it's 7 in the morning."

"Curse you for turning me into a morning person", Eddie said in between kissing Steve's thighs where his shorts stopped.

"Don't you want breakfast first?", Steve asked, his hands braced against the counter.

"I'll have whatever they're serving right here." Eddie put one of Steve's legs over his shoulder and mouthed at his crotch which was already wet from Steve.

It didn't stop there. As Steve got bigger, Eddie did whatever he could to make him comfortable. And for once, Steve thought there might be a point where he got insecure about his appearance. He thought that as he started growing out of his clothes and gaining weight that he might begin to feel like he wasn't attractive anymore.

Eddie never let that happen. He still touched him the same way and just as much. Honestly sometimes it seemed that the pregnancy just turned Eddie on more. Steve didn't believe the whole 'alphas go crazy horny over their pregnant omegas' thing until he saw it in action with Eddie. He would go from lovingly rubbing his belly to tantalizingly drifting his hands down.

The alpha found it difficult to keep his hands to himself before all this. Now it was damn near impossible. Eddie wasn't kidding when he compared Steve's body to an altar. He was a regular patron to the Temple of Steve and considered himself honored to pay his respects.

Eddie watched as Steve's face contorted in pleasure while he fucked into him. Hands gripping the sheets and lips parted in a continuous moan, slick dripping down where their bodies met. Steve's stomach was covered in bite marks and sat roundly between them. Eddie felt like he was making love to a fucking fertility god and he simply the mortal blessed with the privilege.

At seven months pregnant, Steve would look at himself in the mirror, feeling so many things. The love he felt for his unborn pup was there the minute he confirmed it with a test. The ever-present confidence in his appearance was always there too. But he didn't just think he looked good. He felt beautiful because Eddie made him feel beautiful. And every time he looked at his baby bump, he thought about Eddie and his love, and how he literally had the physical proof of it, carried it around with him every day.

They scented each other, shared matching bond bites, and now soon there would be a walking, talking reflection of their love. The affection they had for each other, given life. And Steve couldn't wait to meet them.

[sqyyadina]

A JOINT PRAYER.

Pairing: Lorraine Warren X Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Tags: fluff, first kiss, period - typical homophobia.

Summary: You weren't raised to worship any God, but Lorraine Warren is starting to make you believe.

Author’s Note: I'd take a bullet for this woman. This is also on my AO3!

“We’d like to take you to the movies tonight. To thank you.”

Her voice is as honey as her perfectly curled hair, and as Lorraine hands you a porcelain cup of tea, you revel in the way your hands briefly ghost past each other.

Though you’ve worked as a secretary for the Warrens for well over a year now, you can’t help but feel intimidated as you sit on their plush couch, nursing your tea, the smiling couple sitting beside you. Their combined gaze is nearly suffocating, as if you are consumed by a demon of your own and they’re trying to rid you of it.

“Thank me? Whatever for?” You ask gently, head cocked to the side in question while you sip on the chamomile you’ve been offered.

“You’ve been a great help to us as of late.” Ed adds, a protective hand patting his wife’s thigh. You hate to admit it, you do, he’s truly a lovely man, but every time Ed begins to speak, you just wish he was out of the picture entirely. You wish that could have been your thumb rubbing circles into Lorraine’s plaid skirt; your lips pressing a kiss to her forehead wrinkle every time she got too focused on her Bible.

But it wasn’t you.

It was him, and it would always be him. You saw the way they looked at each other, the way he sang to her when he thought they were alone in the office. They were practically destined to be together. It’s cliché to say that it made you sick, but there genuinely were nights in which you felt feverish over the fact that Lorraine Warren would never be yours.

“Oh, you flatter me…” You hum back, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ears. “Really, all I do is organize files… how much of a help can that be?”

You’re much more sheepish than the two sitting across from you, and it shows. Lorraine, ever the investigator, the curious mind, always searching across the face of the person she’s speaking to as if it’s a map into their soul, picks up on your shyness immediately. She always does.

You know that Lorraine has a nurturing spirit, but you rarely expect her comforting gestures. That’s what makes it so special. That’s why it gives you pause when she leans forward to press a warm hand to your knee.

“Please, don’t deprecate yourself.” Her tone is stern, like she truly means to command you into being kinder to yourself, but her voice is so delicate and her smile so warm and inviting that you soften into her minimal touch and nod your head. “Really, you have no idea how having you around has improved our lives.”

You feel your face turn hot at that last sentence, and you fail to maintain eye contact with the older woman any longer. Gently bouncing you heeled foot against the ground, you giggle lightly, and bat a hand as if to dismiss what she’s said.

“You’re too kind…” You hum back, slowly lifting your head again to meet her gaze once again. At this point, you’ve all but forgotten that Ed is even present. “I’m not sure I believe you, but I’d love to go to the movies.”

It’s without pause that Ed claps his hands together and rises to his feet. He says something, quite loud, but you quickly forget what it is. It startles you, to say the least, and you jump back a bit, your tea threatening to slosh onto your blouse. You notice that Lorraine’s hand stays put on your thigh, though, and only leaves once it’s given you a few gentle pats to settle your nerves. She stands as well, always following her husband’s footsteps. You quickly join them, always following Lorraine’s.

“Let’s see something scary!” Ed grins, searching around the room for a newspaper that may have the local theater’s lineup.

“Oh, do you not get enough of a fright out of our daily lives?” Lorraine jokes with that tender laugh of hers, patting her husband on the back and looking at the paper over his shoulder.

“No, I don’t.” Ed replies simply, and plants a kiss on Lorraine’s cheek.

It makes your stomach turn.

“What would you like to see, dear?” You realize that she’s turned her attention back to you. You stumble forward, as if both of your legs had gone numb in the few moments that you had spent sitting on the couch.

You really do hate to agree with Ed, but most of the movies offered sound utterly boring. The thought did cross your mind that watching a horror film would allow you to look to Lorraine for comfort under the guise of fear, which immediately influenced your decision. Sufficed to say, the Warrens’ ghost stories had both satiated your hunger for fright, and completely desensitized you to it, yet you figured you could act scared enough to win a little more of Lorraine’s touch.

Your first few weeks, of course, you had been absolutely terrified of the previously haunted artifacts that your employers always brought home, but with the fervor of their exorcisms and the frequency of their jobs, there isn’t a whole lot that you hadn’t seen nor heard. You had become primarily neutral when it came to horror, but maybe that was because of Lorraine’s calming presence and Ed’s story-telling ability that made the murderous dolls much less terrifying.

“I think I’d like something scary. It is almost Halloween, after all.” You smile to the older woman before pointing to a certain line of text. “This one has the word ‘massacre’ in the title… I don’t believe you can get much scarier than that!”

Ed quickly makes his approval known, and Lorraine playfully rolls her eyes at him before giving his arm a light squeeze.

“I suppose that’s alright.” She hums, her eyes focusing on the page for a second longer. You’ve always known Lorraine to be the bookkeeper of their operation, and suspected she was always the one in charge of appointment dates and important phone numbers. When she rattled off a list of movie times, Ed already having moved to re-read the sports section, your suspicions were proven right.

‘How about eight?” you muse, looking down at your wrinkled dress and chipping nail polish. “It will give me time to change. And fix my hair… and my nails…” You had expected the weather to be bearable this time of year, but you had been burdened by particularly warm weather that caused your hair to frizz uncontrollably. You certainly shouldn’t have chanced long sleeves.

Lorraine, leaving her husband to his muttering about the Yankees, took the half step closer to place her hand on your shoulder. It was shockingly warm, but not at all a warm that you disliked. A comforting warm, that you could enjoy even on a day as sweltering as this one.

“You look beautiful.” She hums, nearly whispering it, as if she doesn’t want anyone else in the world to hear. “As always.” Lorraine adds before disappearing behind your back. She’s picked up your now empty teacup and makes her way to living room door. “We’ll pick you up at seven thirty.” She winks in your direction before exiting the room.

Your knees feel numb, and you try your hardest to wipe the dumb smile off of your face, but it doesn’t disappear, even as you crawl into your car and turn on the radio that just happens to be playing some cheesy love song.

The honking from outside startles you. That’s easy to say; there’s not a lot that doesn’t startle you. You just hadn’t expected them to be so punctual.

You had been sitting in front of your mirror for a little over an hour now, staring at every little detail of your visage to make sure everything was just right, even down to the placement of your beauty marks. It was honestly quite hard to focus, what with Lorraine’s compliment ringing in your ears. You didn’t even need to apply any rouge to your cheeks, they were still so hot.

Now donning a shorter sleeved blouse and a much lighter weight skirt, hair re-curled and nails painted perfectly, you cheerfully snatched your bag and raced out the front door.

Wiggling into the back seat of their fancy new Chevy that Ed couldn’t stop bragging on, you shoot a smile at Lorraine, who returns it through the rearview mirror. You quickly look away after that, yet you can still feel her eyes bore into you. You might just be making that up, but you’re far too scared to glance back up and check.

The drive is primarily quiet, save for Ed’s singing along to the radio, and you even find yourself enjoying his presence for once. He really does sound like Elvis when he tries hard enough.

By the time you arrive at the theater, your heart is racing. Something about sitting in Lorraine’s presence for more than ten minutes at a time causes you a great deal of panic. Despite knowing the woman all this time, you still find her completely enthralling, yet endlessly terrifying.

When she exits the car first to open your door with a playful smile, you feel your pounding heart drop to your stomach. You felt like you were on a date, except your date had brought her husband along. Plus, there’s simply no reality in which said date reciprocates the ways in which you are feeling for her. It’s a very hard pill for you to swallow, but you’ll need to keep reminding yourself that you in fact are not going steady with this woman, but are in fact her employee, and should be furiously professional tonight, no matter what.

It's when you step out of the car that you deeply regret your outfit decision for the second time today. The day had quickly turned to night before you had realized, and the evening’s chill was starting to settle in. You hug yourself tightly as the three of you enter the theater, trying desperately to distract yourself from the cold by figuring out what you’d like to eat.

Your unease must’ve been immediately noticed by the woman that notices absolutely everything that happens around her, because it’s within seconds that you feel a sweater draped over your shoulders. You perk up and whip your head to the side only to catch Lorraine smoothing down your collar.

“I brought an extra, just in case.” She winks at you again, a knowing smirk on her lips. She must’ve picked up on how haphazardly you tend to make decisions, and you appreciated it more than Lorraine could ever know. It wasn’t often that people remembered much about you, so for her to be so prepared for you made your chest swell.

Lorraine sweater is just heavy enough to feel like a hug, and it smells heavenly. Just like her. You don’t want to seem like a weirdo, but you’d be perfectly content to spend the next hour with your nose buried in the soft material, surrounded by the warm vanilla scent of whatever expensive perfume Lorraine wears. Or maybe she just naturally smells that good. You wouldn’t put it past her.

Your attention turns back to the giant menu board as you pull your arms through the sleeves of the sweater, and right away you could feel your brain go silent. It was impossibly difficult for you to decide, especially when there were so many options. That, paired with the steep prices and the very lackluster salary you make as the Warrens’ glorified secretary, make your brain completely stop its functioning for a second. Your worry makes its way into your hands, which fiddle with the sleeves of the sweater that are just an inch too long for your arms.

Lorraine, yet again magically anticipating your every need, places a firm hand on the small of your back, lowering herself to practically purr into your ear.

“Do you need help choosing?” She’s just close enough that her voice, as low as it is, drowns out all of the madness of the bustling theater, and the commotion inside your mind. `

You nod up to her, chewing on your lower lip as the two of you glance over the menu together.

“I can’t decide…” you begin, eyebrows furrowed as you dart over the row of boxes of candy before you. “… between chocolate or popcorn.”  You’re getting dangerously close to the front of the line now, and it’s really beginning to wear on your nerves, but Lorraine’s ringed fingers lightly rubbing into your back is calming you tenfold.

The taller woman laughs gently, and you wince a little in fear that she’s making fun of you for having difficulty with something so simple, but you’ve never known Lorraine to be a cruel woman, so the thought is easily dismissed.

“Silly girl.” She says gingerly, giving you a light pat before dropping her hand. “Get both. I’ll make sure Ed pays for it.”

Your cheeks burn once again, and while you yearn for the feeling of her hand to replace itself anywhere on you, you find that Lorraine is already a gift from God and there’s no use praying for any more from the woman.

“Thank you!” you giggle softly, returning the clairvoyant’s playful smile with one of your own as you step forward to the concession counter.

Ed begins rattling off all the things that he wants, and it’s yet again that you remember he’s even there. You figure that if a man as boisterous as Ed Warren can be so easily forgotten in your mind by the likes of his wife, you must truly be under a spell. You shyly give your order when Lorraine ushers you in front of her, hands fiddling with your sleeves again. When you begin to reach for your purse, a hand lightly swats at your own. You really don’t find it necessary for the people that already pay your living wage to give you anymore, and yet you don’t deem it possible that Lorraine will let you pay for anything yourself.

With treats and tickets in hand the three of you make your way into the theater, Ed taking the exact seats that you would have chosen yourself. It’s by a miracle— or rather very careful planning on your behalf— that you’re sitting next to Lorraine, with Ed on her other side. You silently cheer yourself on for what you believe to be such careful maneuvering, because there is just no way in the world that you would spend the next two hours sitting next to someone who will probably talk over the entire movie anyway.

You settle in as the opening credits of the film begin, and right away you feel anxious. Even in a room full of people and the ever so comforting presence of your favorite demonologist by your side, it’s hard not to be scared in a dark room watching a movie about a psycho killer. Your leg begins to bounce nervously as you begin shoveling popcorn in your mouth, anticipating the many scares that are soon to come your way.

And they do come, in multitudes. You’re jumping out of your seat nearly every minute that goes by. The Warrens, as cemented in their occupations as they are, jump a few times as well, which comes as quite the comfort. You had seen them frightened before, when assessing houses for possible spirits, but neither seemed to be as much of a scaredy cat as you.

You’re granted the solace of Lorraine’s hand when she offers it to you about halfway through the movie. It’s after you jump at the sudden sound of a chainsaw revving up, and she must take pity on you, but you don’t care about the implication because you take the hand as quickly as it’s offered. As you’re sitting to her left, you notice that she’s come to the theater with her signature rosary wrapped around her hand. The cool beads do give you a bit of alarm when you first feel them, but then you realize that it only comes as added protection. You’re not sure what the power of the Spirit can do for you in this moment, but you’re very happy that Lorraine is always prepared against whatever dark forces she’s prepared against.

Sitting next to her, hand-in-hand, Lorraine’s gravitational pull is so strong that eventually you find yourself fully leaned against her arm, gripping her hand for dear life. It doesn’t seem to bother her one bit, and if the lights were any brighter, you’d be able to notice a smile planted firmly on her rosy lips.

Just as you feel yourself in a safe position, completely relaxed and feeling entirely safe (or as safe as you can feel during a movie like this), the movie’s third act kicks into gear and you feel your heart start to beat about a million beats a second. You feel a wave of panic wash over you, and it came out of absolutely nowhere. You swallow hard a few times, looking around the theater to keep yourself calm, to remind yourself that there’s not really a chainsaw wielding maniac running around the place, but it doesn’t do much to settle your nerves.

Before you even notice the stinging in your eyes, before you can stop from embarrassing yourself, your cheeks are wet with tears. You swipe at them a few times with your free hand, hoping to not draw too much attention to yourself as you begrudgingly pull yourself from Lorraine’s grasp.

“I… I’ll be right back.” You whisper next to her ear, praying to God that she didn’t notice the crack in your voice.

You can hear her whisper something back, but not well enough to register it, because you’re already out of your seat and rushing to the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror, you assess the damage to your makeup.

Your mascara has run down to your neck, and your lips are all smudged from your nervous popcorn eating.

… And you had left your purse, with all of your extra makeup and tissues, beneath your seat.

You felt on the verge of a breakdown, but the very last thing you wanted to do right now was to sit on the floor of this horribly rotten bathroom and cry until your eyes gave out.

You had been staring at yourself in the mirror between broken sobs for God knows how long until you heard someone else enter. Deeply ashamed of your appearance, you turned your back to the door, using a damp towel to try and clean up your makeup.

Then you heard a lock click.

But it was unlike the lock of a stall door.

Then the echoing tap of a pair of kitten heels.

You tense up, too scared of embarrassment to turn around to face whatever movie attendee, or, as you now feared, possible murderer, you were now trapped in this bathroom with.

That’s when you felt the hand press against your back.

“Are you alright?”

That voice was too kind to belong to a murderer.

“Lorraine!” You nearly scream, tossing a hand over your heart to clutch the imaginary pearls that you couldn’t even afford if you tried. “My goodness, you startled me!” You laugh softly, sniffling while you turn to a sink to wash your hands. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She hums, voice barely above a whisper. She’s standing right behind you now.

You’re awfully embarrassed to find that there are no more paper towels in the bathroom, and you have to wipe your hands on your skirt, but Lorraine doesn’t seem to notice.

No, her attention is solely on your face.

Her hand lifts up to push a wayward curl behind your ear.  It lingers there for a moment, smoothing down the rest of your hair. Her other hand sneaks its way around your waist, resting just below your belt.

“I just wanted to check on you.” She flashes you that oh-so very endearing smile in the mirror, and lightly runs her thumb below your eyes, wiping away the last remnants of your tears.

You swallow hard, chancing a glance up to her only to miss the woman’s gaze, as her eyes are now glued to your cheek, then your neck. She’s petting your hair, and each stroke is sending a shiver down your spine.

“Oh no, no…  I’m alright…” you manage to mumble out, your voice a mere breathe that hitches when Lorraine’s hands maneuver you to turn to face her.

“Good.” She purrs, leaning in until your foreheads nearly meet. “I wouldn’t want my baby to get too scared.”

Dear God.

You didn’t often take His name in vain, but this felt an appropriate time to do so.

Your heart is beating so hard that you’re worried you may pass out. 

She called you her baby. You were hers.

Your body betraying you, you practically melt into the taller woman, your hands finding themselves on her hips, holding onto the material of her skirt for dear life.

Lorraine calculates, as is her way, but only for a moment, before her hand slides down to gently grasp your cheek and pull you closer into her.

You gasp into her, her lips latching onto your own before you can even remind yourself that you were meant to remain professional tonight. It seems you’re well past the concept of professionalism by now.

It takes you a moment, a very brief moment, to soften into her kiss. You’re like putty in her hands, molding into the curve of her chest and pressed so hard against her that you’re sure you’ve become one being.

But you haven’t, and before you know it, she’s pulled away.

It takes everything within you to not whine and fuss at her for being so rude as to pull herself away from you.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” She says rigidly, fixing her hair in the mirror with one hand, the other still latched onto your hip. “But you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to.” She laughs a little, finally turning back to meet your gaze.

“I…” You’re at a loss for words. Never in a million years would you have expected for Lorraine Warren to waltz in and kiss you out of the blue like that. You must have truly racked up your good karma with the Lord, because this was enough to be considered a miracle. “I… I’ve also… wanted to… with you.” You stutter out, brain just barely conscious enough to put together a string of words.

Lorraine laughs her beautiful laugh again, her hand returning to caress your cheek.

You shut your eyes tight, laying all your weight into her hands. A thought crosses your mind – that she very well may be testing you – trying to sniff you out for being a freak – that there very well be someone right outside that door ready to ship you off to the loony bin –

That thought disappears almost immediately once Lorraine leans down to press her lips to yours again, this time much more confidently.

Her hands wander down to your hips once again, and yours are gripping into her skirt so hard that you’re sure you’ve left permanent wrinkles in the fabric. It’s impossible for you to be any closer to her now, and yet she’s still pulling you tighter, lips coaxing small whimpers from your own.

You’ve gone completely lightheaded now, the lack of oxygen making you a bit dizzy on your feet. Luckily, you’re so sustained by Lorraine’s embrace that there’s just no chance of you falling over.

Her hands threaten lower, her kisses become sloppier, her thigh situating itself between your legs so that you can press your weight there and feel a shock through your entire system unlike you’ve ever experienced before. Lorraine’s whispering some string of messy whispers. Maybe a prayer, much like the one you’re reciting in your own head for someone, anyone, to make this moment last until your dying breath.

Your joint prayer comes to a halt when you’re so rudely interrupted by an angry knock on the door. Lorraine quickly pulls away from you and immediately begins wiping her smudged makeup in the mirror.

You’re stuck in space, stood blinking, mouth hanging open, feet unsure of where to take you.

“Go get in a stall.” Lorraine commands, a gentle finger wiping at your tongue to collect all of the saliva that you had produced in the midst of your affair. She flashes you a sickeningly sweet look before turning you around and patting you towards the stall, where you quickly hide, being able to take her command even though you’re sure your brain can’t conjure any other actions.

Lorraine’s heels tap towards the door, and where she exclaims how sorry she is, how silly she must be for locking the door behind her. Her voice is so pure, so normal. You’re shocked that she can find herself so calm after an event that had nearly introduced you to your maker.

When you hear a stall door click shut, you make your escape, checking your appearance in the mirror just in case. You certainly look bewildered, a little frazzled, but nothing you can’t excuse under the guise of a scary movie.

When you return to your seat, Lorraine is sat with her hand in Ed’s, her eyes glued to the screen. You sit reluctantly, reaching for your popcorn.

It’s less than a minute before she has removed her hand from her husband’s and has given it back to you.

You’re smiling much too brightly, and you can tell that your clairvoyant is smiling just the same. You’re too focused on the way that her hand feels in your own to pay any attention to the God-forsaken movie playing in front of you.

[stardancerluv]

What the Emperor Wants

Part 6

Summary: A new dynamic between and the reader who belongs to him. Things take place the dark of the night.

Notes/Warning: 18+, pinv consensual intercourse (be safe!), virginity lost, blood & a dagger is mentioned, ownership, womanhood is mentioned, worship and belief of old gods, mentions of someone that pays Geta in the middle of the night (no spoiler, please read!)

Strigil: to clean off the oils or soaps off a body. Sperlonga: where Julius Ceaser first emperor of Rome was born, Borghi più belli d'Italia: means the most beautiful village in Italy.

❤️s, reblogs, comments, feedback are all welcome! Thank you for reading. 💐

You felt as his eyes drifted over you.

"I am very proud of you today."

Licking his bottom lip, he bit it. He looked as of

he was thinking of what else needed to be said.

"You did not make me regret my decision."

"I am glad."

A smile curled his lips.

"Come here."

Your heart beat harder as drew closer.

"I wish to relax for the rest of the night."

He pointed to a bottle of oil.

"Rub that into my back. While you do so, using

your words like an artist, tell me where your

people come from."

"If that is what you wish."

"It is." He took a seat on a stone bench near you.”

"Rub that into my back. While you do so, using your words like an artist, tell me where your people come from."

"If that is what you wish."

"It is." He took a seat on a stone bench near you. Nearing the bottle you saw a very elegant strigil. When you picked it up, it scrapped against the marble table

"It's very sharp.'

"It is. So be careful, I do not wish to shed my blood tonight."

You nodded.

"If we are to shed any blood, it will be your womanhood."

"My womanhood." You echoed.

You had heard of it being possible but hearing it again made your stomach churn.

He turned more towards you from where he sat and looked at you. His hair cascaded over his brow like a sunset.

"Yes, it is the sacrifice that is made to the great gods of the heavens and to your emperor?”

"Yes, Geta. I understand:

"You better. I do not feel you are a hysterical girl.”

“I’ve never been known to be one.”

“Good.”

He sat once again with his back to it.

You placed the strigil down. You rubbed your hands together, warming them. You mother had always taught you it is better to touch with warmth then coolness.

Pulling the stopper you brought the bottle of the fine oil to your nose. Your eyes, grew.

“Sire?”

He didn’t move. “What did I say about that?”

“Geta,” You swallowed. “I am sorry.”

“It’s fine. It shows how well you have been trained.”

Even though you could not see it; you were convinced one of his cooler smiles curled his lips at that remark.

“Yes.”

“What is it? Why the pause?”

“The oil. It is the same used on me earlier.”

“Yes, yes it is.”

“But, but…” You voice trailed off as the words failed to be expressed.

“You belong to me. I will share the best with you when I choose it to be.”

“Oh?” A flutter went through you. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, don’t make me wait any further.”

“Yes, yes of course.”

You placed the bottle down, then once again rubbed your hands. A good spirit filled you at the thought. You would keep in a good temperament whenever you could.

Picking up the bottle, you poured some of the oil on your hands first, instead of just dribbling some on his back first. If had always felt more comforting when done this. You hoped he would feel the same way.

In the brief moment before your hands felt his shoulders, you were certain they tingled. Perhaps it was the goddess Venus blessing you tonight. You murmured a soft prayer to her and then laid your hands upon him.

Your heart felt like it would erupt from you. It was beating very hard.

Your hands drifted, rubbed and gently squeezed where it felt needed. His posture stopped being rigid after some time. But he didn’t utter a word, you took it as a sign he was enjoying himself.

Pausing for a breath, you poured some more oil onto your palm.

“Oh, yes. You have grown to silent.”

He looked at you over his shoulder. His profile sharper than the coins that attempted to bear his likeness

“You are to still tell me of where your family comes from.”

“Yes.”

You placed the bottle down once again.

You began to move your hands down lower on his strong back. A strong warmth burned him. It was the strength of the gods, you were certain of it.

“My family lived on the brink of forever. Where the water laps against golden sands are a brilliant and turquoise.”

“Does it go by the name Sperlonga?”

“Yes, Geta I was told that is its name.”

“You come from a mighty land. The great Tiberius came from that ground.”

“Our first Emperor, Geta?” You gad heard whispering among the elders.

“Yes, yes he was.” He paused. “Now, I know quite more about you.”

“Geta, I am confused.”

A chuckle came from him and he turned away but then moved more so he could face you.

“Borghi più belli d'Italia.”

He said simply, his tongue becoming elegant. He spoke of the sentiment you heard frequently of your village.

“And you, are also quite lovely. Your roots are from there. Though I would dare say being in Rome and working so closely to your emperor, only helped with your beauty. The goddesses and gods are kind to you.”

You trembled, you didn’t know what to say. You bowed your head.

“Thank you Geta.”

He nodded, before reaching for and grabbing the strigil.

“Time for you to finish.”

“Yes.” Though you placed it down.

You went to the plant with its large leaves and knowing which ones were dying, their edges browning, you pinched them off at the stem and brought them over and placed them under foot.

“For an easier clean.”

He nodded.

You took a breath, steadied your hand and soon scrapped away the layer of oil. His skin had a new radiance. His features, the strength underneath shone through. Once done you, wiped the strigil and placed it on the table and put the stopper back into the bottle.

He rolled his shoulder. He made a soft, pleasant sound and soon stood. Once again he was close and you were reminded of how he could tower over you. A smile was on his lips.

He brought your chin up. “You didn’t even prick the skin.”

“You warned me, so I kept my breath and was careful yet thorough.”

“Good for that.” His thumb caressed your jaw. “Remove your garments and go and lay in the bed.” His eyes narrowed. “On your back.”

You nodded. And he let you go.

Your heart had beat hard before, now more. Besides the bed is where you loosened the knots and undid the clasp that bore his profile. Not know where to go exactly, you went to its center.

He came over, he did the knot of his belt. Soon like falling leaves, his braccae fell to the ground, not far from where your garments laid.

He crawled over to you. Your stomach fluttered. Truly, the gods had been kind to him. He was trim and sharp like the staues artists have erected in his honor.

He came to rest beside you. “I will touch you now.”

“Yes Geta.”

Soft sounds came from you as his finger tips grazed from your cheek, to your throat to your chest. He cupped one of your breasts.

“Oh, it feels good. I am sure one day they would be good for a babe to suckle at.”

“I hope so.” Your voice shook. His touch was light, barely felt it. But made you very pleased. Soft sounds came from you.

A smile curled his lips.

His hand drifted over to where your heart was. You don’t know why but you shifted a breath.

His dark eyes found yours.

“My heart, is thudding hard.” It was all you could say, you were terribly breathless. Could barely hold onto one.

“That is how it is. You have not departed yet, from this world for the underworld blossom.”

“Oh?”

He nodded.

Moving back, his hand then splayed on your chest. He smiled. “See I felt it move faster. It is responding to me.”

“I believe so.”

His hand then traveled along the curve and softness of tour stomach.

“Your body pleasing me greatly.”

You nodded. “I am glad.”

You gasped, your eyes grew when you found his hand cupping you.

“This feels good.” He gave you a squeeze. “Soft, warm. Ready, to welcome me?”

“Yes.”

“Open your legs for me, bid me entrance.”

He climbed over you, the sight made tingles come from the very center. The sensations, were welcome but they did spread through you. In your breathless state, you glanced away from his magnificence.

“Am I so ill to the eye. Should I have warmed you with wine like my brother does with the dancers, he randomly beds?”

His words were sharp, they stung.

You quickly looked back. “No, Geta. It is just you are truly like a god before. And I can barely catch my breath. I do know what you shall want me to do.”

An edge remain but his words were softer.

“Let your body, let your heart lead. They will know what to do.”

“As you wish.”

Soon, with his free hand you felt as he opened you further so he could properly settle between your legs. The tingles, you had felt earlier caused a needy ache in you. Perhaps, it was that part of you that knew what to do while being guided by the fates.

You felt as he brushed against you, a soft sound escaped your lips, a mixture of pleasure and surprise. It had felt good. You glanced down. His arousal was quite big, it matched the rest of his beauty.

“Your body as responded to me. Just like the ground is thirsty for the water from the rains, your body is ready.”

“Yes. But am I not too small. I do not want to cause any displeasure in you.”

You were taken aback. You had not expected to be more ready then you were. Perhaps it was from his gentle words and touch. You tried to understand how you were feeling empty, feeling an unexplainable need for him. But you wanted this and would not stop him.

“A sword sheaths itself, that sheath must must be barely big enough to hold the sword it is safe. You are perfect, for me. Though, I should remind you there will be pain. It is the sacrifice that must be made. From this night forth, you will forever be mine along with your woman hood.”

You nodded. You felt there was no great sacrifice then to one’s emperor who had already been far kinder then you could have ever expected.

At first, there was quite a bit of pressure and it was not long before the slice of pain ripped through you. You gasped and called out, arching against him. You clawed at the soft fabrics under the two of you.

He still and waited till your body called and it did, but sweat broke out as if you were out in the sun. It must be from warmth that came from him. The pain soon ebbed.

“Shall I continue?” That was when you realized he had truly stilled but was still deep within you.

“Please.” Something you were unfamiliar began to build within you and you wanted more of it.

Soon, Geta easily began moving easily in and out of you. His breathing shortened and sounds, came from him you had never heard before.

There were sounds you had heard them in the neighboring sleeping quarters where you lived before he brought you to the domus.

Soon, his fingertips grazed between the two of you. A sharp pleasure ripped through you.

“Your bud is as delicate as the flowers you love.” His voice was raspy. You were lost in your sensation to barely realize what he said. All you knew was he spoke.

It cleared your thoughts all you could do was make your own incoherent sounds you grasped onto him. You felt like you could shatter yet you entire body tightened.

“Oh Geta.” You whimpered under him. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t, my blossom.” His voice was strained.

A moan was ripped from you as his fingers grazed once again between the two of you.

You bucked and felt as everything with your erupted, it felt absolutely amazing. Once you could see beyond the bursts of stars in your eyes you were melting under Geta.

He arched against you a final time and soon, uttered his own very deep moan. Be he came to rest his forehead against your shoulder. His breath was hot he panted before he moved and was laying on his back beside you.

You honestly do not know what came over you, perhaps it was the goddess Venus herself that truly liked the union of you and Geta. But in glow of the pleasure that had filled you; turning you looked at Geta.

His lashed laid softly on his cheeks as he breathing began to steady.

“Will be do this again?”

He smiled, though his eyes didn’t open. “Yes. Though that was enough for one night. Like wine, I do not want to grow terribly addicted to you. Not good for an emperor or you.”

“Oh.” His words fell over you like a shadow. You could tell how it made you feel but the glow began to shrink in its size.

His finally opened and he looked at you. “Also, so that words don’t fly faster then then already do at the senate or the forum, you must go back to your chambers but I will see you for our morning meal.”

“Yes.”

You knew enough to get up then and easily wrapped the elegant fabrics around you. He rolled away as you glanced over. It made a pang go through you.

*******

Once in your room, you paused after closing the door. You felt suddenly very hollow, as if his ownership finally was realized. You hugged yourself tightly.

After sometime, not knowing truly how long you stood and were going to prepare for sleep which is beckoning. When you realized, the golden clasp was not in your possession. His words echoed in your mind, they had given you a chill. Yet, you didn’t want yourself to be the cause of those loose words. So carefully you crept once more past his sleeping guards, something you would tell him about over perhaps some more full, very crisp and pleasant grapes.

You opened the heavy door and in the few candles that remained flickering in his chambers, you made your way to the alcove where his bed was.

A scream came from you that you had never known to be in your possession. It came from somewhere deep inside of you. There beside his bed was a man holding a very large dagger, he looked like he was prepared to strike.

Geta awoke, the man brought down the dagger. Moving just so it only managed to slice at his upper arm instead of his heart; where he had appeared to be aiming for. The sight of crimson was stark to the rest of the night. Everything became fuzzy, your knees began to buckle before all became black.

@honey-eyed-munson @amethyst-serenade @screaming-blue-bagel @missonlypost @kitkat80 @blondie324 @alyisdead @hellomadamebutterfly @heartsforjosephquinn

[pseudoartistpostsstuff]

Heyo! May I request platonic yandere chain with reader? But instead of isekai like normal the reader is actually a destructive spirit or deity that was reawakened by either Dark Link or Ganon? Anywhoooo I hope you’re having a great week- mine was filled with exams lmfaooooo

Thanks for requesting anon! I really hope you had good results from those exams!

Notes: My week was okay, thank you for asking!!

I really let out my imagination out on this one, hope you'll like it.

BTW, take this as a part on the back for getting through your week.

I feel like I made the yandereness on this one so light, I'm sorry

-> Reader can't bring themselves to remember anyone's names so just remembers their most striking characteristics in their opinion.

-> It's been a while since I've read the comic, so Time keeping FD's mask on his belt for safety measures (since it's the most dangerous one and he can't lose it) is merely a headcanon of mine.

-> Reader is a menace who has questionable intellect (AKA a chaotic, pyromaniac, destructive entity being forced to be nice to others by the good guys™).

-> I left the end ambiguous, so you guys can decide if reader was either truly tamed or is still a menace who Time has to keep on check so they won't be too cruel on their "pranks".

-> Reader also magically rearranged Time's ocarina so each hole would play different a different sound at some point, so he literally had to re-learn where each note was so that he could go back to playing his songs again.

-> Reader slept for more than Time and Wild both and doesn't know a thing about the Zelda lore other than the Golden goddesses.

TWs: Light platonic yanderism, mention of burns, mentions of fire and arson, mentions of loud noises, basically just reader being an absolute hazard to anyone and everyone.

Platonic yandere! Chain x Reader

Debt to pay.

People from your time used to say that one could sooner move a mountain from it's resting place rather than tame your natural ways.

You wouldn't say you were a deity, per say, you thrived on chaos and setbacks, a living annoyance to the poor living things that breathed the same air as you, and roamed the earth by the same time you did.

It was in your nature to be destructive, yes, but you never wanted destruction, at least not full extinction. The darkness and the light were both two sides of the same rupee, they were one just like the other, beings of both sides would react the exact identical way to having their butts lit on fire. So, of course, you weren't one to pick and choose who you'd go after each day.

Thing is, most people didn't understand that —if anyone at all— so everyone just assumed you were a being of pure darkness, even if you actually saw yourself as more of a dark gray entity from a moral chart perspective.

And that was how you got yourself “killed”, if that's even the right thing to call it.

Somehow, no one seemed to care much when you lit whole villages on fire and made all of the walls of full-on castles start dissing out pure electricity, but they almost dislocated their jaws the moment you decided to do a silly trick and turn all of their lovely goddesses statues upside down for a day.

As if those same goddesses hadn't just ignored all of their prayers in the last hundreds of years you spent freely making their lives miserable.

You were stored in a vase. Not even a cool cool one. A plain clay vase deep within a temple under the ground. If you could choose, you'd have preferred something more majestic and up to the level of your power, but then again, it wasn't like you were in place to say anything in your defense.

Sometimes you just wondered how your small group of worshipers were. They probably weren't the best people out there, if you could say so yourself, but you were still curious if they ended up having similar fates to yours.

A long, long time later, you were "revived", for the same reason you were "killed".

Not the best choice on the part of whoever went through the trouble of doing all that, but who were you to judge? Or even to complain?

From what you could get from the boring evil monologue the guy in front of you was giving after having just woken you up from the longest nap you've ever had —since you couldn't really die— the guy wanted you to aid him in his quest to kill some other guys and take over the world or some boring nefarious plan like that.

You couldn't recall any of the names he just said, though, so you could only guess that you had either slept for a pretty damn long time, or you were in an entirely different world on itself.

Before you could fully decide on one of the two possibilities, the red guy sent you to fight against that group of guys he was talking about, seven men with varying shades of blonde hair along with two guys who weren't blond at all.

Perhaps you could have admired the strength of the red guy's magic, to just bring you out of your sleep like that and already straight up teleport you.

Thing is, you didn't really care enough to do that, you just did whatever you wanted the moment you realized you were fully conscious and in a physical body once again.

Were you chaotic and very much possibly evil? Yes. Were you stupid, however? Kinda No.

So the moment the opportunity presented itself, you followed those guys around, gathering information. Taking notice also of that one shadow looking dude, who was following them around just like you, seemingly with the intention of making their lives hell.

Maybe he'd be an interesting being to interact with, if he wasn't as prickly as a damn cactus. You swore you couldn't even approach the guy without him reacting like a startled cat, pointing his flimsy sword straight to your face. You swore to yourself you'd break that thing in half one of these days.

And so you set your sights fully on the blond —and the not so blond— guys, taking your time to also play around with the villages they went to and toy with the monster camps they passed by.

Of course, you couldn't just ignore the massively ominous aura drifting from the masks that one of the taller blondies carried around. Your hands itched to get a grasp on those things, whatever was sealed inside it was magical and possibly powerful, and the possibilities sent your mind on quite a dangerous frenzy.

The thing that made you a bit disappointed, however, was how long it took for them to notice your presence.

At some point you decided to start giving them some more obvious hints that what was following them wasn't friendly.

They seemed to really like bomb bags, which wasn't exactly safe for them when you could randomly activate those at will.

Also, you couldn't control the rain or storms, of course, but you definitely could attract lightning, especially since they all seemed to enjoy carrying around those identical metal swords.

Sometimes you just liked to pull on their hair and make knots on them, given that some had really long hair.

The wolf guy had a horse, one you could just startle really easily. Although you didn't have the result you wanted, since the wolf guy wasn't sent flying the moment his horse went crazy.

You caught him later, though. Making loud, high pitched noises to absolutely blow away his senses the moment he turned into a wolf to try and chase you down.

The fire that the short guy was using to mend a weapon randomly became overly strong, enough to have burned his whole arm, if he hadn't pulled away quick enough.

The scarf of the other one just one day became a bit too hard around his neck. It's a good thing for him that he was quick enough to pull it off his neck before he suffocated.

You watched as the one with pink hair almost had a breakdown, as all his colorful, shiny little trinkets and accessories having become dulled, turning completely pitch black, no traces of their original colors or magic left.

The kid tried to control the wind, only to have it blown straight back to his face, bringing leaves and sand with it.

You made sure their cook accidentally poured a bit too much pepper in their food, or salt, even sugar, if you felt like it.

The brown haired one suddenly lost control of his magic, what was supposed to heal their wounds ended up dyeing their hair blue for days on end.

That other guy who always overslept felt his pillow being pulled from under his head at random times through his nights.

And the tall guy's masks have all suddenly decided to disappear.

“Okay. Something is going on here. And it's not something natural.” Time sighed, looking around the camp, tired and worried, concerned.

Wild’s hair was an absolute mess and seemed to have caught on fire at some point, Warriors was glaring at his scarf, keeping it as far from his —almost purple— neck as possible. Wind had his hair almost as messy as Wild's, full of leaves and dirt, he was pretty sure there were also some bugs around it, his cheek had a thin cut from a sharp little rock.

Twilight was occupied comforting Epona, although the both of them seemed quite shaken up by something.

Four had some burns around the tips of his fingers, his hair usual blond hair now stained with blue, Hyrule sitting beside him with a frown, bandaging his hands rather than using his healing magic like he normally would.

Sky wasn't far from the two, almost dozing off despite the migraine that had settled behinds his eyes, which were now dotted with heavy bags from sleepless nights. Legend's terrible mood did not seem to disturb his need for a nap.

“Oh, really?” Legend almost growled back, positively fuming with barely contained rage gleaming in his eyes.

“Vet, I am not your enemy here, but once we find out who is doing this, you can direct your anger towards whoever they are.” Time shot a look to the other.

“That is, if it's even a person doing this. It might be some kind of monster.” Warriors commented.

“One thing we're sure of is that there's magic involved in this.” Hyrule spoke up, finished with the bandaging.

“I don't even know why you're so mad, Leg, you were possibly the least affected by this.” Four complained, eyebrows furrowed with stress. Even as a blacksmith, he was never a fan of getting burned, especially not being caught off guard like that!

“Agreed.” Wild was the next to speak, not bothering to brush the soot out of his hair. It wasn't quite the first time he almost been exploded, after all, even though the experience didn't get any better no matter how many times he went through it.

“You're really saying that, even though the kid only got a burst of wind to the face.”

“Ay! Mind your own business, Legend!” Wind sprung up in defense of himself, already looking to be tense prior to the attack, as the two began arguing.

While the group was in quite the mess, you took your chances to go ahead and approach stealthily to attempt to take the mask you were so curious about. Said mask being the last one you hadn't stolen borrowed yet, since the tall guy seemed to have noticed his other masks disappearances and decided to take extra means of protection towards that one.

In your opinion, your risks were all carefully thought out and calculated, however, you seemed to have completely forgotten about a certain wolf guy at the edge of the camp, standing beside his horse and looking straight at you.

You managed to grab the mask from the taller guy's belt! But at what price..?

Before you could even manage to turn around and run away with it, a hand shot out, hooking on the back of the collar of your shirt, pushing you to the ground in a second. And in another second, there was a blade shoved right in front of your face.

Goddammit.

You barely paid any attention to all the yelling, too occupied hugging your newly acquired possession tightly to your chest.

“Hand me that mask. Now.” A voice right behind you demanded, yet you still didn't move.

“No.”

The sword in front of you seemed to inch just slightly closer to your neck.

“At least tell me what it is, first!” You asked, a bit more squirmy, not at all comfortable with the vulnerability you had right now, since it seemed like that long sleep left you with a bit less power than you used to have, clearly a precaution, should you ever gain you body back. It was smart from your captors, but very much annoying for you.

“None of your business, now give me back my mask!” The tall guy —now in front of you— stressed. You could tell that his restlessness was hinting towards just how near he was to the end of his wits.

“If this piece of porcelain is as powerful as it seems, then yes, yes it is my business!”

It wasn't, not really, but you were too curious to just give up on information just like that.

The tall guy went quiet for a second before he finally replied, going with a question instead of actually giving you an answer like you were expecting from him.

“How do you know how powerful it is?”

“None of your business.” You threw his own words back at him and now the dull side of the sword was suddenly pressing up pretty uncomfortably against your skin, burning you. “Okay, fine, I'll tell you.”

And that was how you met the Links, and also how you became chained to them, unable to leave. After all, you did have to pay them back for all that you did to every single one of them.

But, for some reason, that simple dept seemed to only to get bigger the longer you spent time with them, despite the fact you weren't doing anything entirely wrong…

At least, that was the excuse they gave to you, yet something in you made you feel like that wasn't the full truth.

Extra (This happened)

Time: give me back my shit

Reader: nuh-uh

Time: fym nuh-uh

[utilitycaster]

You who are wise in the way of Exandria (helps run the readable wiki), maybe you could tell me or point me in the right direction. There's been several statements that the Pantheon gets their power from their followers, that feed on their faith/worship/prayers. One of the Vanguard says something to this effect, and Deanna seems to subscribe to this belief as well, and I think I sort of thought this as well pre-Downfall. But is there any actual evidence for this?

Hey anon, thank you!

The short answer: it's really unclear even from the text precisely what's going on, likely because this is foundational lore of Exandria that's existed since pre-stream and it's changed over time as different players and GMs have brought in new perspectives. The most I would say is that the gods of the pantheon do not require worship as a condition of their existence.

The longer answer:

The gods appear to be independently powerful, which would make sense, since they are effectively extra-terrestrial or extra-planar entities of possibility solidified into specific embodiments of concepts, ie, when in physical form on the material plane they are just creatures with their own power. We see that the Everlight's power during Downfall, for example, does not seem diminished even though nearly all of her worshipers were killed by Asmodeus.

However, we also see that when in mortal form, the avatars do gain power from worship and specifically from being in places where they are worshiped. We also know that while he's not of the pantheon, the reason Artagan has the ability to grant divine power as though he were a god is because he is worshiped as one by Jester.

My personal interpretation, and I want to stress this paragraph is very much only an interpretation and not canon, is that while the gods are in mortal form, they need worship to access those truly divine abilities, but while in full godly form they do not - ie, the pantheon doesn't seem to need to be worshiped to have the powers of a god, since that is simply what they are as beings, but should they limit their forms or should an entity who is not of that same classification of being (ie, Tengarian, mortal who has used the Rites of Ascension, or whatever the fuck the Chained Oblivion is) wish to have the powers of a god, they do need worship.

Now: the above relates to entities who are on the material plane. This isn't the case with the divine gate. Because the gods of the pantheon now must act through mortals, it is functionally true that unless they have worshipers within the world, their ability to influence anything in the world is greatly limited if they don't have worshipers. The wiki source on The Everlight's influence being weakened/diminished is a Reddit post from Matt 8 years ago and again, that's influence, not raw ability. When we encounter her in Campaign 1, The Everlight is still able to do everything any other god can do; she just isn't as well-known within Exandria.

The Vanguard member who says mortals are food for the gods is Tuldus in episode 44 and he does not explain how this is. Obviously he's not going to be an objective source here, as a cult member under interrogation with valid resentment towards whatever religious institution under which he was brought up, but we have not seen evidence of the gods needing mortal prayer or worship other than again, to act within the Prime Material Plane from the other side of the Divine Gate. FRIDA says that they believe their worship "charges" the gods (episode 52) but also doesn't provide evidence; it's just their belief.

So this is a long way to say that the gods do ask things of their followers, particularly those followers who gain powers from them, but that seems to be strictly for the purposes of acting within the world from behind the Divine Gate. Any feeding off of mortal worship when in full god form and not a mortal avatar form is purely speculative, and such worship of their mortal forms as we saw in Downfall was freely, if in SILAHA's case unknowingly given, and did not seem to drain his followers in any way nor even require them to know it was worship. In terms of having power as present physical entities either pre-Divergence or in their realms post-Divergence, we don't know if they require anything. At minimum they can go a very, very long time without major worship with no loss of power.

[emptypapertowelholdermodelx]

weekly rituals with my deities - a study in motivation, worship, routine, & relationships

while working with apollo today he approached the subject of my lack of relationship with the deities i have been worshipping. he acknowledged how it bothered me. while praying to hekate, she pushed the word “try” into my mind several times as i lamented about how i “couldn’t” keep up with everyone i wanted to, and how my faith was waning as i lacked devotion, focus, and motivation. apollo and hekate, together, suggested i pick a day of the week to worship each deity separately. j can continue my small, daily routines (sleep for hypnos, yoga for the morrigan, pills for apollo, etc.), but i may find it easier to pick a day to devote to each deity as well. i worship seven deities, and there are conveniently seven days in the week.

all of this was confirmed when i saw a post here about how i should do the same. i knew apollo and hekate sent the post my way to confirm what they were already telling me - sign, if you will. confirmation.

in that case, i’m writing my routines and devotional acts out here, as a way to stay motivated, accountable, and have it on hand whenever i need it.

every day i plan to pray to them more intensely than usual and offer something small, whether that be a portion of my meal, a flower i found, or a cool rock.

sunday; apollo’s day. pray to him, offer something to him. sunbathe in the window, or outside, in the morning. make a point to dedicate my medicine-taking to him. journal a little, and do a weekly tarot spread to honor his divination aspect.

monday; the morrigan’s day. pray to her, offer something to her. read one of my books about her. do an intense yoga routine to get the blood pumping - no skipping out on this! journal while praying to her.

tuesday; anpu’s day. pray to him, offer something to him. do some shadow work - this could be free writing, a tarot spread accompanied by journaling, or following some prompts. i’ve found that anpu really appreciates when i perform shadow work, and as a death deity, i think ill start a trend of working through my death trauma with him on tuesdays.

wednesday; hyacinthus’ day. pray to him, offer something to him. on wednesdays i will make a point to talk and pray to him while i water my plants, pick weeds, and check on the overall health of my garden and health plants. i’d like to also do some introspective journaling on love and the trauma i am working through, as hyacinthus’ main goal with me is to build a healthy relationship with my partner.

thursday; hypnos’ day. a soft, calm day. not much goes on. i offer to him, and pray to him. perhaps i can take an extra long nap. i can cleanse my bed altar, make it all tidy, and do some devotional prayers and restful activities in bed. i will also make a point to dedicate that night’s sleep to him, and invoke him to appear in my dreams if he’s willing.

friday; hekate’s day. offer to her and pray to her. read one of my books about her. perform a magical spell or ritual, no matter how big or small. right now it’s hard to do full blown spells as i’m working in the broom closet at my christian sisters house, so i don’t have much of my supplies. but manifestation and intention setting will be one way i can accomplish this.

saturday; hestia’s day. pray to her and offer to her. clean my room and tidy up my space in dedication to her. light a candle while i pray to her, and let her energy fill my room. maybe do some baking in her honor, like a sweet desert or an attempt at bread.

i am hoping to follow this routine for my gods and myself. this will help me refocus on my practice and get in touch my deities again, who i’ve been slightly neglecting in favor of doing nothing all day.

i had an insightful time with apollo and hekate, and hope they’re proud of me as i implement their ideas into the coming weeks <3

[starlightbooklove]

Ok, I finally saw Journey to Bethlehem and I can't begin to express how much I loved it, I'm a very difficult person to like a full musical, which is why movies like west side story and in the heights I only liked a few songs, like as movies in general they are good, but not to my personal taste.

Furthermore, the Christian film market usually ranges from very similar, commercial and honestly boring films, to 'reinterpretations' that remove plots and things that do not go at all with the Original material So I wasn't too confident in how good the trailer looked but I was willing to give it a look, thank goodness I did.

As a Christian who was raised in the church with a Christian family, my view of religion was quite Biased by their way of looking at it Which wasn't bad, but I was focused on the religious point of view sometimes excessively, so over time as I grew up and got to know the world around me, I moved away from that, And then after I grew up I returned to wanting to learn for myself without biased opinions about the Bible and to be able to understand it and really feel what everyone said they felt.

And so I came to the conclusion that You can save your self a Lot of time, if you just read the bible as what it is: a book, full of human people with a lot of imperfections, murky, miraculous, heartbreaking, crazy, steamy and even funny (yes, I'm not lying) stories. Religion, so focused on an idea that sometimes not even the Bible itself shares, forgets the human part that fills the stories, which is not very described in it either, but that one can easily interpret.

And thanks to this, criticism of Christians is very well founded on several occasions, and many people have the mistaken idea that the Bible is a 'holy book of holy people'.

That there is nothing more false, the book is holy or is different, unique and/or sacred because of how it was written and because of the stories that happen in it And how accompanied by prayer and the real desire to want to know, you can learn a lot no matter how many times you read it, not because of the people who lived them.

Who were they, let me tell you the test of God's patience.

Do you know Moses? The dude who divided the sea (by God's guidance), did you knew that (this one's funny), thanks to the people he brought out of Egypt after the plagues and that he have to spend 40 years with them in the desert? 🙃 no, it's not a joke and no, it's not an interpretation, literally thanks to the almost constant disobedience of the Israelis after being liberated they were punished with that, and the worst thing is that God had reasons, and I'll give you an example of that, these people decided to worship a damn golden cow that they built Because Moses had taken a long time to return from talking to God (when he went to look for the commandments ironically) less than a year after being freed by God from slavery.

Moses broke the first tables of commandments out of anger, and had to go look for them again, I repeat, no, I'm not playing, this is how it happened in the Bible And it was not only for this reason that they had to stay, it was a list of things that these people did, having as a testimony and example just by being free, still had Incredible faith problems.

The generation that left Egypt never saw or lived in the promised land, the only one who saw it out of mercy was Moses, but it was the descendants who managed to enter the promised land.

Haaa, bet you didn't knew that..

So, as you can see, no, not holy and/or perfect people at all. You might wonder, what does this have to do with the movie? And I will answer you, sorry, i got inspired, but the thing is, this is basically the context of why I liked it so much.

Journey to Bethlehem, it is the story of the birth of Jesus if we remove the religion and the holy holy beautiful peacefull look that some churches like to sell, and start to unite our 4 neurons and think about what, humanly, those people thought and did under the context of that time With fire songs, good performances, very good acting, and Milo (I'm not going to elaborate, I'll just say that I gained a tremendous crush on this man lmao)

And I want to list my favorite points from this in the movie.

-The representation of Mary

Arguably my favorite part of the movie, like, this woman really made me feel what it must have been like for her to carry the son of God.

Because N1: Mary is painted as this woman rejoicing in the news that she will become pregnant overnight when she is engaged, not married, in a patriarchal society With around 1000 laws about what you can and cannot do and the things you cannot do are punishable by death, One of them being being pregnant or having a child out of marriage 🙃🤭 what a blessing right?

And N2: For years Mary has been said to be holy and worshiped when she probably wouldn't approve of that herself, since she grew up with scriptures that said they couldn't worship idols. And they made her an idol. Something to make clear is that the only holy human, biblically speaking, is Jesus. Mary was a virgin, not a saint, she had more children with her husband after having Jesus, she had a life beyond him.

And this movie brings that out, it makes the most of it and I love it.

It shows what a struggle it must have been for her to have such a burden on her, she was young (in those days people married young), perhaps a teenager, Yes, they were raised differently and at the end of the day he was about to get married, but still, as I said, the Bible leaves out a lot of the human factor.

It can say that it passes a beginning and an end but it does not give you the means to connect both parts In the Bible, Mary respectfully accepts the news that she is going to have a baby, and the film respects that, but Mary was human, you know the fear and absolute madness must cause that an angel to appear to you out of nowhere and tell you that you are going to have a son who is going to be savior and king and then disappear (appreciation for the angel Gabriel btw My man would be me if i was an angel lmao) How the hell do you explain that to your parents? To your fiancé, no matter how versed everyone was in the scriptures, no one, NO ONE thought Jesus was going to be born from a humble virgin, Literally part of the reason (spoiler alert lmao) Jesus was killed was because no one believed that the king they were waiting for was a simple carpenter who was born in a manger. This probably included Mary herself, certainly her parents, and much more, Joseph. And she knew it, of course she knew it, she knew it was true but she had to know how hard it was to believe it and how much trouble she could get into for being pregnant. It's kind of expected that Mary would have doubts, rightly so which is why I love love the song "mother to a savior and king" i just feel that it had to be exactly what she thought.

... Give me eyes to see

Just how I can be

Carrying your son when I need You

To carry me

...Should a miracle feel like an anchor

Bringing shame upon my family

This burden is too heavy

I need strength to be

A mother to a savior and king

... You said, "Do not fear"

So Lord, if you are here

Help me have the faith you have in me

Give me eyes to see just how I can be

Mother to a savior

When I need saving

Like aaaa Chills, literal chills And I love it because it doesn't occur to people how society must have seen Mary, we see it as a blessing because we know how it all ended, but they didn't know. And they lived in a very very different society, if everyone had found out, they would have stoned Mary, that is the reality that they don't talk much about at Christmas.

Another fact that I liked is that Mary had to travel, traveling in this time does not imply the same as traveling in that time, with her 9 months of pregnancy (Because she gave birth as soon as she arrived in Bethlehem) on a donkey 🙃🙃🙃🙃 I don't think I have to elaborate much, i love how they portrayed here. You can say people knew how things were, they were used to it, yes, but Maria had never been pregnant and no matter how adapted you are to something, You can't erase the physical challenge of traveling with a giant belly in those conditions.

And let's not even talk about the birth, where they were in the city that: it was full of soldiers seeking to kill her and her baby, they broadcast the news that they would be killing babies and pregnant mothers In search of finding her, which is why they did not find asylum and had to go to a stable.

I think with the idea of ​​☺️ ah, Jesus was born in a manger ☺️We forget that 💀 oh, Jesus was born in a manger 💀 I don't know about you, but I think that is not the ideal place to give birth And yet the representations of that are so sugar coated We literally have a song called "Silent Night" tell me, explain to me what part of giving birth where the animals and their excrement are because an entire army is chasing you trying to kill you, sounds like a peaceful night????

Another detail is that Joseph (who I am obviously going to talk about) logically had to act as midwife for Mary, because no one was with them, no one wanted to be with them, that sounds like a horror story honestly, and no, I'm not taking away from how beautiful the whole purpose of Jesus is and everything is.

I am only pointing out the facts, which are raw and very Real about a situation like this, this was the reality as it is written, the Bible leaves things out But the rawness in several acts is never lacking.

One last thing to add is that I was afraid at first that they would portray Mary as a feminist ahead (by centuries) of her time But in an annoying and very political way because of how the movie started, And that they were going to make her not want the pregnancy and make it as if they had violently forced her, thank God that didn't happen, i loved her, The actress did a tremendous job interpreting her with personality without losing the respect (that is noted in the Bible) Mary had for God and the giant task she was given, and I actually liked that twist That perhaps Mary and Joseph did not know each other before they got engaged, which would not be unusual at that time. And that Mary said at the beginning of the movie that she believed she was destined for bigger things 🙃.They give more personality to this icon that we all have of her and I love it.

-The representation of Joseph

Starting with the fact that I have a big fat crush now on Milo Mannheim thanks to him (not important at all actually)

I think everyone, whether Christian or not, knows that Joseph is a secondary character every time the story of Jesus' birth is mentioned, even invisible I dare say. And I was always curious because of how he leaves after he is born in the Bible, it is simply not mentioned again and this is why I think there is this kind of unconscious belief that Jesus only had one parental figure and that was Mary.

When this can easily be contradicted by the little information we have in the Bible; Joseph was known as Joseph the carpenter, and who ended up being a carpenter? (Flashbacks to Sabrina lmao) Jesus, No matter how holy and amazing he was, Jesus grew up having to learn things, he wasn't born knowing, and obviously Mary didn't teach him how to work with wood so it's pretty logical to think that his stepfather (idk How to call it) taught him. That even if we leave this out (which is after the birth of Jesus) Joseph was THE man ok And this is with biblical foundation, he believed Mary and decided to continue with the wedding despite how crazy it all sounded, he helped her during the trip to Bethlehem, ALONE, he had to practically attend the birth

And the film captures that so, so well, I have no words to describe how impressed and excited I was to see how they highlighted so many things that I knew because yk, they are in the Bible but I hadn't been aware of noticing before.

How difficult it must have been for him to make the decision to believe Mary (which, let's be honest, takes a lot of faith to believe something like that) To follow her, and his song, my God, his song is so good. It's perfect for showing a morally gray human decision and the way he delivered that presentation ugh I just feel from my heart that it was exactly what Joseph thought. Cause:

I'm completely torn in two

Half of me believes her,

while the other half needs proof

This was no inmaculate conception

Just the ultimate deception

Gilty to the bone we should have her stoned now

Wait don't you throw your stoned no don't yoy judge her i look into her eyes i think i love her

I just 🫠🫠🫠 Jesus Christ

You don't come out of that movie without half falling for Joseph and that's something I never imagined saying in my life lmao

It was a very human way, full of personality and commitment, to portray the character. beyond the attractiveness of both the actor and the goofy personality they gave him. They gave it this degree of seriousness and part of the story that shows very clearly what they themselves say in the film and that is that God did not choose only Mary, She couldn't do everything she had to do alone, and among those things was raising a child that was given to her overnight and that she had to carry for nine months, and that does not deviate from history even though there are those who say no, it is written but I think it needed the human interpretation for people to see it, as I feel that they need with many stories from the bible. They definitely took their liberty to create the love story and I'm not complaining, I never thought at all that there must have been a lot of love both between them and for God for them to be able to go through all of that, And I like to believe that if it was like that, the love they had for each other, because only someone who loves another person so much is willing to go through all that, cause very easily Joseph could receive confirmation from God that what Mary said was true and say well, that's not my problem, but he decided to take responsibility with her, Which shows why God chose them, so yes, it has its freedoms but I don't think it is essentially far from reality.

Herodes

O. M. GOOOOODDD.

Antonio Banderas ate with his performance because damn I could feel the arrogance, the complete pleasure that those kings had for being rich and powerful, with that man And he didn't have much screen time, despite how comical he gets at times he manages to show how dangerous Herod was.

That, they didn't show it but that man ordered babies and pregnant mothers to be killed in the end, just for fear that they would take away his throne and his power, out of complete caress. And Antonio showed a funny and iconic man but also dangerous and capable of that and, and also they gave him the best song.

And i'm not Even joking, 'good to be king' is what Disney tried (and failed) to do with "Wish", It has all the magic and that lyricism that shows rough and raw things with incredible music That sticks to you despite how bad the bad guy is, from the villain songs of Disney's 2D movies, It's at the level of "poor unfortunate souls" and the Interpretation, God It's one of the best parts of the movie, weeks go by and I still can't get it out of my head

Finally, the relationship of Mary and Joseph.

I feel that all our lives, after thousands of times telling us the story of the birth of Jesus, the relationship of Mary and Joseph never had any importance beyond their role in the birth. So I loved the representation of that here, the way they took this theme of a planned marriage, which could very easily have been a reality, Along with the human and emotional reaction that these people must have had at the time, they give life and depth to Mary and Joseph, with the pros and cons.

With how difficult it was but also how strong they must have been as a couple to carry out the huge task they had, it made me see it from a more human point of view and give more value to their relationship.

They took their liberties, there are things that are super funny and have that absurd touch, but it is a story full of a lot of respect for the source, and full of a wonderful and human interpretation of of this great story, You don't feel it is religious, because it isn't, the music isn't just there and they are all very good (something that doesn't happen with all musicals).

And it is simply beautiful, it is made with love and it shows, they took advantage of every penny of their budget and put out this piece of art that I feel everyone should see for Christmas And that I would like to tattoo permanently on my brain lmao.

Go watch it, it's absolutely worth it.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading my entire almost essay of the movie, I hope you find your Joseph in life🫶😂

[hauntedhokage]

salvation

Priest!Nanami Kento/F!Reader

word count: 2k

summary: you’ve been avoiding the church, the weight of your unabsolved sins sits heavy on your shoulders, and you know that he knows. he could always see right through you.

warnings: MDNI, priest kink, blasphemy up the ass, references to sexual content (sex in a church and unprotected sex), unintended use of a rosary & prayer, manipulation, Nanami refers to reader as “lamb” and “little one”, this is not their first meeting, established…something, reader is some kind of devout to Nanami and not necessarily to the religion itself at this point,

note: this is heavily inspired by my experience in church (read: very catholic), but I was also trying to lean more into my own vision of  “cult-religion” while not explicitly naming any particular religion that reader and Nanami are failing at practicing. Technically this is act iii but idk if I’ll write the acts i & ii that are in mind. 

AO3 | Nanami Masterlist | All Masterlists | Ko-fi |

You’d been avoiding the church. 

Always conveniently scheduled to work during the different scheduled mass times, and the one time you hadn’t been working you’d faked sick. Faking sick again wasn’t an option, as you were still working through the various meals that were brought your way to help you feel better and didn’t need any additional tupperware to wash and return to your neighbors. Your boss hadn’t scheduled you during Mass in a while, stating that he knew how much going meant to you and now that business was a bit slower he could afford to give you that time back. Everyone wanted you back in that church, sharing the house of worship and the teachings being preached because they all felt you needed it. 

What it provided, you didn’t know. It used to feel natural to be there, enlightening even. Confessional once lifted the weight of your transgressions and had you feeling lighter with the knowledge that your path had been redirected. The reassurance that the gates of heaven had not yet been shut to you, the feeling of light that came when you were told that you were still part of His flock, safe from the fiery darkness of hell - nothing topped that feeling. 

But it wasn’t that you were avoiding the church. 

You were hiding from Father Kento. 

He knew you better than anybody else did at this point, and you hadn’t known him long. It had been maybe six months since he’d come to replace the older priest who had passed away, and how quickly he’d drawn you in - like a moth to his flame and you were trying to avoid getting burnt. He was a priest, after all, even if everything you knew about him went against your understanding of what priests actually did. But maybe that was what you liked about him? Father Kento to you was a completely different man than he was to anybody else, you knew him better because you’d been blessed with the opportunity to see more of him. He’d taken “priestly liberties” to see to your salvation, took special care of you as his most precious lamb, and this was how you repaid him and his kindness? Avoiding he who had given so much to you?

“You look troubled, little lamb.”

And there he was. Always there when you seemed to be thinking about him the most, only in the last few weeks you’d turned away when you saw him at the market or on your way to or from work. Today, though, there is no avoiding him for he’s standing right in front of you. A gentle hand on your elbow (to steady you, would be his cover for a touch so intimate), eyes looking right through you it seemed. 

“Good evening, Father,” you greet, smile soft yet still uncertain as you meet that piercing gaze. “How are you?”

“I’ve been worried about you, but I’m well.” There it was, so quickly to the point yet still managing to be indirect given the public setting that was the middle of the sidewalk. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been alright. Busy, then-”

“Then you weren’t well, yes?”

“That’s where I need to confess.” Your admission earns a quirked brow, the ghost of a smile gracing his features under the streetlight as he gives your arm a squeeze. 

“Would you like to come with me to the church? Somewhere private where we can talk and hopefully provide some solace to that troubled mind.” 

Another act of familiarity, this time his thumb gently running up from the bridge of your nose and between your eyes to smooth out your furrowed brow. A gentle pat to the top of your head follows when you nod, and that has him smiling as he gives a nod of his own before turning to lead you back towards the church. During the walk you tell him about your day, how work was and sharing a fun fact you’d learned that day. In turn he tells you what he can about his, out of interest to respect the private lives of others in the parish. It’s natural, nobody would assume any less than holy intentions to see you being guided down the sidewalk by Father Kento. 

But as soon as you’re inside the walls of the church, the loud click ringing through your ears signaling that you were alone with him and would see no intrusion, you feel almost like a lamb being presented for sacrifice. 

He follows you to where you usually sat shen it was just the two of you in the large building, on the steps in front of the pews, beneath the stained glass but out of its reach when the light shone through at most hours of the day. He does what he always did, dimming the lights before lighting the candles that would provide more intimate lighting for the conversations yet to come.

Father Kento always made you feel special. 

“Where’ve you been, little one? I miss seeing you front and center at mass.”

That was where you were nervous. To tell him what was on your mind, as well as the things that you’d been doing in lieu of attending church and confession, wasn’t going to be easy. He’d be disappointed, and you think for a moment that maybe that’s what you were hiding from. Not Father Kento himself, but the disappointed look in his eyes when you confessed to him that you failed to resist temptation - failed to come to him for protection from that temptation. 

But you tell him anyway, sparing no detail as you know the only way to be absolved of your sins was to confess them. He does an excellent job of keeping his face neutral, hands idly turning his rosary as he listens, and that helps you to ensure that you maintain that honesty. You knew it would hurt him to hear that you’d let another man touch you, that you were hiding from his disappointment, that you were afraid of being a distraction from his work. By the time you’re done your own hands are in his, wrapped in his rosary which eased their shakiness and brought a great deal of comfort.

“I’m sorry that you felt that you couldn’t find sanctuary here,” he murmurs, carefully pressing his forehead to yours. “You should know that I would never judge, and am always here to help you cleanse your sins.”

“I know, I know,” you whisper, looking down at your joined hands. The crystal beads don’t feel as heavy on your skin as they had when he’d started to bring them around your skin, which helps considerably but doesn’t completely relieve you. “I’m sorry, Father, sorry that my faith in you became so weak.”

“God forgave you as soon as you entered his House.”

“But have you forgiven me, Father?” The question brings him pause, and you know why it would. In his eyes, God’s forgiveness should be most important to you, and if God can forgive why would you need to hear anything else? He liked to tease that you were constantly testing him, but this wasn’t a test. This was how you truly felt, and you feared his reaction but you still finish your thought to improve his understanding of your situation. “God’s love means nothing if I don’t have yours.”

“My love for you has not waned in your absence. You are forgiven for your transgressions, my lamb, and I would like to reassure you in that forgiveness.”

You’re kissing him before you can properly process the implication of his words, knowing that what you needed was the specific brand of salvation that only came from Father Kento’s touch. His hands pull from yours, leaving the rosary to hang from your hands as his come to hold your cheeks. Father Kento’s kiss was as he was; calculated and warm, knowing exactly what he needed to do or how he needed to move to maximize your experience in his arms. 

“Please do not drop my rosary, sweet lamb,” he mumbles, lips moving to your neck while his hands work to position you on his lap. “It’s key to your salvation this evening.”

Your attempt at assurance that you’d never drop his rosary - or anything of his, really - is cut off by a whine when sharp teeth dig into your shoulder. A signal to God, he’d said once, to let him know that you’d bled for your faith and did so willingly. You have to separate your hands so he can pull your shirt over your head, and he pulls the cross that now dangles against your forearm into his mouth as he looks up at you through his lashes. Perhaps it's a reminder to be careful, a reminder of where your faith should lie, but you take it as an invitation and press your mouth to his in an open kiss around the quickly warming metal.

“I have to properly present you to God, little lamb. Ensure that he can properly see you embrace your salvation.” And you know exactly what he means as you finally pull yourself from him, letting the spit slick rosary fall against your arm once more before you stand on shaky legs. You needed to bare yourself before God and the Father, present yourself at the altar to accept your salvation. Akin to taking the sacrament, but this brand of salvation was reserved specifically for you - for Father Kento’s favorite little lamb. 

There's a symbolism here that you can’t miss as he lifts you onto the altar - the focal point of the church beneath the intricate stained glass windows depicting images of peace and holiness.

The lamb presented for sacrifice as she’s laid atop the altar, but there’s no knife in his hand. Even if there was, you would only feel reverence for the man standing before you - the man you trusted with your life. You were his little lamb, his favorite within the flock to be used as an example but never to be harmed. If you were ever sacrificed; you’d be reincarnated to once again be his favorite, he’d said it himself that in every instance of your shared existence that he knew he would always find you. The shepherd tends to the flock, always, and a lost lamb would find her way home to the shepherd who loved her so dearly.  

“Are you ready to embrace salvation?”

“Please, Father.” Your hand searches for him, something that you can hold onto when you feel his tip slide through your folds. His hand catches yours, the tight grip pressing the rosary beads into the tender flesh of your palm to the point where you know you’ll see indentations from the intricate bead and metalwork decorating your skin. Another reminder of your repentance to join the soft bruises on your hips, markings on your shoulder, and the remnants of Father Kento’s holy essence that would be left inside you once he’d finished. 

You were far from pure, but so was he. Figuring out where he lost any hope of the salvation he preached would take months of carefully placed questions, but you knew when you’d lost your own. He was unassuming, a kind priest who followed the path lit by God’s light, but at the same time all consuming as he ravaged you from the inside out. Your road to hell had not been paved with good intentions, as he’d intended on dragging you down with him on his own road to damnation. 

But Hell didn’t seem so bad to you if it would be his, too.  

Despite it all, you’d follow him anywhere, if he asked you to go. It wasn’t any god that you prayed to when referring to a Father in your prayers, for Kento was the only Father you prayed to. Your heavenly father, and you know that you will not stray far from his side again. 

You knew better than to hurt yourself like that again. 

[liesinmyeyes]

HEY ITS ME AGAIN, that one baby pagan witch who was asking for advice like 3 days ago!

sorry to bother everyone again and yall were really sweet with your advice last time (seriously i appreciate it so much, i feel very welcomed❤️) but i have like one or two more major concerns that are holding me back from pursuing anything further w my craft

so far, i've taken a very casual, laid back approach to worshipping deities. I don't really have the ability to make altars or to give them physical offerings often (the broom closet is tightly locked) , so i mostly just pray before bed after cleansing my hands. And these aren't ornate, pre-planned formal prayers, either. I just kinda silently pray and yap to them about the things that happened to me that day (usually related to the deity, like for example if i wore a cute outfit and people gave me compliments abt it, i'd tell that to Aphrodite) and if have nothing to tell them, i just mutter out a short "Hermes, you make me feel inspired while travelling" or "Hestia, you fill me with warmth at the thought of you". Yes, i pray to like five of them, in a row, usually ending with a slightly more formal prayer to Nyx and Hypnos about a calm night of sleep (though if I want to pray to Aphrodite and Athena in the same night I try and move the prayers dedicated to them as far apart as possible). My point is, I just kinda pray to any and all of them, whenever I feel like it. Is this an incorrect, far too casual and disrespectful approach?

tying into that first point, i often see stuff like deity work pop up on my dash, with neopagans talking about all of these "rules of talking to deities", or "needing to wait for signs from deities", or "them only wanting a relationship with certain people" or "needing to choose a deity /let a deity choose you" and so on and so forth, and that makes me feel bad about being so casual with the Gods. Like I'm just barging in with my stupid disrespectful prayers without "waiting for a sign" or "letting them choose me". It's probs just my anxiety getting in the way of me again, but whenever I see those types of posts, I feel like the Gods are mad at me? I often backpedal and apologise profusely in my prayers, often coming off as overly anxious and apologetic. I've even made offerings as apologies to like every deity under the sun in fear of offending them with my casual approach (some apologies were valid tho bc I did kind of disrespect Aphrodite's authority one time, still super sorry about that), which only happened because I saw posts of other pagans worshipping differently and saying "don't ever worship them this way" or "this is the right way to worship". I'm in a constant state of fear of offending the Gods because I really want them on my side, since they bring me so much happiness and calm, but because of this fear, they ironically also bring me lots of anxiety and doubts and fear. I try and follow the majority of the Delphic maxims, but I end up beating myself up super hard about failing to control my attitude when angry for example and apologising profusely to Apollo. It feels less like a religion of freedom and more like a religion of guilt, which I don't think it should be? It's just kind of hard not having concrete unified rules to abide by. I guess what I'm looking for is advice on how to rid myself of those doubts and not let other pagan's opinions sway me so much.

[jeonghansbunny]

Corrupted Priest

Rating: 18+ | Read at your own discretion

Content warnings: Dom/Sub, manhandling, crying/tearing up, unprotected sex, creampie, corruption. Please keep in mind that I wrote this with the idea that everything is consensual!

Priest soobin

Who in the beginning you thought as cute

Because he had that dorky smile

And wide eyes

And looked like a baby rabbit 

Who was so young and tall and attractive 

In comparison to the old priest before him

All of the other girls were going crazy about him

Trying to chat him up

And find out if he was married or in a relationship 

Being as innocent as he could be

He dodged their prying questions

By telling them he's only focused on his work 

Knowing you never had a chance to begin with

You never made an effort to strike up a conversation 

And showed no interest in him

But there were moments

When you'd catch him stare at you

And your eyes would meet for split second

Before the both of you would look away

Weeks would go by and you'd participate in different fundraisers

With each one getting to talk more and more with the new priest

At first he'd always give you that dorky smile of his when thanking you for your help

The he'd start to show skinship 

By patting your shoulder as a thanks

Something you noticed he didn't do with anyone else

As time went by you became closer

To the point of having an actual conversation 

As small as it was

It was a progress

And his skinship also started to increase

At first it was harmless

But deep down inside of you 

You felt that something is not right

The way he doesn't touch anyone else

Or how his elbow once accidentally touched your breast

Making him turn bright red

His cute and innocent expression 

Making you forget

About the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach 

Too focused on the loud beating of your heart

One night you found yourself in church

Stressed and overwhelmed with everyday life

You decide to come and pray 

Soobin saw you and decided to observe you from a distance 

A distance where you couldn't see him or feel his presence 

A distance he has been secretly keeping in order to watch you

You see Soobin isn't as innocent as everyone thought

He has had his eye on you for a long time

And has been thinking about you in ways a priest shouldn't 

Thoughts of what he'd do to you

The innocent you

Who doesn't talk much

And keeps to themselves

Who is diligent in helping the church out 

And diligent in your prayers and faith in God

His wicked mind wanted for you to be diligent to him as well

To follow his words

And do everything he tells you to do

For you to worship him as well

His facial expression had turned into one that no one else has seen before 

If they did they would wonder if that is the Soobin they know

Or a Soobin possessed by Satan

He catches himself and tries to focus in the moment

Rederecting his attention to you

He notices you silently crying

Something snapped

Somehow his pants feel tighter

A throbbing sensation taking over

He tried to calm down

And decides to approach you

He sits beside you and asks if everything is okay 

Startled you tell him it's nothing

And that you've just been stressed lately 

He empathizes and tells you he'd be willing to listen to your concerns 

After contemplating you agree

And willingly decide to follow him inside a private room

Where you wouldn't bother anyone else

Not that anyone else was there

And you start telling him about yourself and your daily life

Starting to well up at the exhaustion you feel

He tries to pay attention at what you say

But shit

You're such a pretty crier

The way your brows furrow 

And your lips get swollen

And how the tears leave your eyes and roll down your cheek 

Until they're reaching your jawline

That throbbing sensation in his pants returns again 

He decides to sit closer to you 

So he could subtly have a better look at your face

You rarely saw him make such a serious expression 

His gaze following your every move 

His hand starts to go up and down your shoulder 

As a gesture to comfort you

He tells you he's glad you could open up to him

And starts to wipe away your tears

You notice how big his hands are

And how one of his hands could cover your entire face

He must've noticed too

Because he starts to cup your face gently 

Telling you comforting words in a gentle tone

So gentle it becomes hypnotizing 

You lean on his hand

And his thumb starts rubbing on your lower lip 

One thing leads to another

And he starts to kiss you

His hand behind your neck 

Pulling you closer

Not being able to get enough of your swollen lips or your whines

You desperately hold on to his shoulders

Without realising you're sitting on his lap

While his hands wander up and down your body

Accidentally you grind on him

His gaze gets darker

His face serious 

He looks mad

Looking at the innocent you

Who doesn't even realise what you just did 

How his cock is throbbing because of the friction

Of you on top of him

How your white dress is riding up higher and higher

Exposing your thighs

He puts his hands on them

And starts caressing 

Going higher and higher each time

Until he's holding your sides

And pushing you closer on his bulge

Repeating this action 

Until you start moving your hips on your own

His eyes roll back

"This isn't enough" he thinks to himself

He tells you to wait a moment 

And pulls his cock out of the slit in his robe

He starts to play with the fabric of your underwear

And move it to the side

Nearing his tip to your entrance

He tells you to continue 

At first his cock only slides between your folds

But then he starts to enter you

Slowly he keeps pushing deeper and deeper inside of you

While you grab on his shoulders for support 

And let out whiney sounds

His big hand rest in a comforting way on your head while the other guides the movement of your hips

He praises you

For being such a good girl

And taking his cock inside of you

And how good you're making him feel

That he's going to cum any moment 

And that he's going to cum inside of you

Needy and desperate your hips begin moving faster and faster

Creaming his cock

Clenching around it more and more

The pressure in your stomach growing

You feel so good

Your eyes start to well up

You beg him with tears in your eyes

"please help me"  

You can't think clearly anymore 

You don't know what's going on

You just want to cum

His cock twitches at the sight of you begging him so innocently 

So he puts both hand on your hips

And starts thrusting into you mercilessly 

That's when you start to cry out loud from the senstation

Of his cock hitting the deepest part of you repeatedly 

Your eyes roll back 

While incoherently making sounds

That were supposed to be you tell him you're cumming

You start to shake from the intensity

And clench hard on his cock

Which makes him shoot his load inside of you

He groans in satisfaction 

Of having corrupted you 

And thinking of all the other ways

He's going to fill you up <3

[vishnavishivaa]

Edhuvum Avanukaaga

Meaning: Anything for him

********

'May his light ever live on,' prayed Vanathi quietly, in front of Kaayarohanar, the presiding form of Ishvara at Nagapattinam. She had been restless since she heard about Poonkuzhali in the letter her Prince had written to her Akka, or rather letters. Though he never failed to ask about her, it was perfunctory. Vanathi was no fool, though many thought her to be so.

She had refused to even meet Arulmozhi, instead having seen him once as he woke up. She had not left her chambers except for her prayers, even food, she had gotten to her chambers itself. She had come on Akka's wish, but she was not going to involve herself anywhere near Arulmozhi. She had to lick her wounds in private, and smile to show the world she was happy with his choice of woman. She would always love him, and thus, she will let him go. For his happiness, anything.

Tears filled her eyes at her own thoughts, and she wiped them off, looking straight at the One she worshipped above all, at the One who was everything in the Universe.

"Emperumane, give me strength," she whispered softly, getting up after a prayer to Nilayatakshi and Kaayarohanar, when her Sakhi Tulasi came running in, saying, "Ponniyin Selvar is to visit the temple now with Ilaya Piratti, Vanthiyathevar, Sendhan Amudhan and the odakkari."

Vanathi felt her heart stop and she got up, saying, "Come Tulasi, let us leave. I have some work in my chambers. I need to stitch the pallu for Vanavan Athai. Come come."

Vanathi slipped out of the temple, hurrying to her palanquin faster when she saw the said group of people walking in that direction. Luckily, only her Akka had seen her, and she shook her head, running and entering her palanquin, not knowing that Arulmozhi had seen the end of her saree as she got in.

She heaved a sigh of relief, and asked the bearers to go ahead, when his familiar voice reached her ears.

"I have never known the Princess of Kodumbalur to run away from her Akka or me, have you, Devi?"

She trembled when she heard his voice, and thought of Shiva, prayed to Him again and again, and stepped out. She folded her hands and greeted the younger Prince of Chozha Nadu, her heart beating out of her chest. She did not want to look at him, but by protocol she had to.

"Vanangugiren, Ponniyin Selvare. I am glad to see you awake and doing well now."

"I am surprised to see that you did not come to visit me, Vaanathi," he said, and Vaanathi resisted the urge to snap. Why should she go to see him?

"Ilavarase, I came as Akka's companion," she said. "By protocol, I should not come to meet you alone."

Her eyes met his steadily, and she could catch the hint of surprise in his lovely amber eyes, the hint of something amiss, and she smiled a little more. She wanted his happiness, and he clearly was, around Poonkuzhali. She must thank the woman for not just saving the Prince, but for also giving him that happiness and contentment. Swallowing quietly, she allowed herself to still look at him, not letting the flood of her heart reflect in her eyes.

"But you can with Akka," he pointed out correctly, but she shook her head.

"Ilavarase, only those whose presence is needed must come to see you. My presence would be a disturbance. But I am thrilled to see you doing well. I will pray to Emperuman for you. For now, please let me take leave and not disturb you all in your darshanam."

"You will not come with us?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"No Ilavarase. I already finished my darshanam. I have some work, vanangugiren."

Saying thus, and smiling at Kundavai, Vaanathi went back to her palanquin, feeling his eyes on her, but refusing to look back or at him.

It was not her right, any longer.

*****

This is a sneak peak into an angst Vanathi and Arulmozhi story. It will not be too many chapters in length- I am trying to make it as limited but with the punch it requires, as possible.

Please do let me know what you all think of this snippet!

@ahamasmiyodhah @thegleamingmoon @yehsahihai @mahaswrites @hum-suffer @theramblergal @moon-880 @arachneofthoughts @whippersnappersbookworm @rang-lo @celestesinsight @willkatfanfromasia @mahi-wayy @ragkee @houseofbreadpakoda @sambaridli @nidhi-writes

[paula-of-christ]

hey I'm an atheist, and I have a question, I'm not sure if this comes off as offensive or anything but if it does I really don't mean it that way.

I saw some things about like... neurodivergent people (autism, ADHD etc) being seen as like people who were possessed by the devil in Christianity. and im just confused because I'm not sure whether all Christians think that neurodivergent people are like possessed and sinned or something, or if it's just those people. sorry if this doesn't make a lot of sense, I'm autistic and I was just wondering what you thought.

That's largely an Evangelical/Fundamentalist Christian idea nowadays. Way back when in medieval times everyone thought that (including other Abrahamic religions) but that was when in general we didn't understand the science behind mental illnesses and other similar diseases or neurodivergency. It really is just those people. Of course you will find a Catholic that also believes that, but the difference is, it is not taught by the Catholic Church, officially or unofficially, and that would be considered private opinions those people hold. Granted, Catholic-Christians still believe in demonic oppression and possession, but we realize that it is much less likely for people to be possessed. Can demons cause symptoms similar to those? Yes, but you have to without a reasonable doubt rule out those neurodivergencies prior to any kind of investigation into the demonic. And at that point, you probably have symptoms that go above and beyond those neurodivergencies.

Now as far as my personal opinion goes, I think depression and anxiety are demonic oppression in much more of an amount of time than we generally give credit for. However it doesn't extend to something like ADHD or autism, I think that's a stretch, my opinion is just based on my experience with depression and my observance of other people's depression and anxiety. Both of those things are almost totally cleared in most of the population by meditation (which a lot of prayer is), focusing on an object, or becoming aware of your surroundings (I cannot for the life of me think of what this is called but it's like, picking out things around you of the different senses). While medication can help, I do believe that the reason we see so much more anxiety now is because of the moving away from traditional religions, which almost all include multiple senses in their forms of worship. It isn't until American Protestantism really kicks off in the 18-19th century that we see these things become real issues, and at that time as well, a rise in anti-theism, rather than just agnosticism or atheism.

[unrealistic-ideas-for-writers]

Wuthering Waves Interlude: Beneath the Sands

Act I. Midnight on the Dunes

Quick A/N: This is a test run for this project with some world building, some practice for me writing Caladin, and for others! If you’d like your OC to participate, feel free to tack on their thoughts and what they may be doing prior to the quest. Another Author’s note will be at the bottom with specifics to help maintain a good flow.

Ether. Noun. The regions of space beyond the earth's atmosphere; the heavens.

Etheric. Adjective. Of or pertaining to the ether (an all-pervading medium.)

Caladin thumbed over the worn and yellowed cards. A remnant. Of what was, what has been, and what will be. He didn’t know how many days he’d been here. It should’ve been at least a month- that was according the Squad’s day keeping at least. It was hard to tell. Caladin had been charged with leading his squad to handle a strange occurrence just South of the frontlines- a site of worship for the Dusk Father. The desert had been welcoming, clouds casting shadows over her sands for once.

Though perhaps that’d been a warning.

The Etheric Sea had appeared shortly after, an odd barrier had fallen. It ripples like water, but too dense to pass through. It stretched for miles- they had walked to try and find a work around.

Eventually, exhaustion caught up to them, leading them to take refuge in the Dusk Father’s embrace. For a bit, everything was alright.

The next morning, in Mother Dawn’s early light, they saw the barrier drop. Only for a moment. And then began the game of time.

For three days, they watched. And waited. And noted.

Food consumed would reappear everyday at Dawn. Water was the same. And the barrier would flicker.

The Etheric sea loomed above them.

Day Four.

Something changed. Moisture extracted itself from deep within the sand, rising up, and up, and up.

Retroact Rain.

The fighting began shortly after. Wave after wave of Tacet Discords until Dusk.

And when Dawn came? It would reset.

Caladin was loosing track of time. The Dead didn’t stay dead.

Aslan and Parshati had both recieved fatal wounds, and yet they were now running around camp, joking and laughing.

It felt like he was the only one still watching, waiting. It was concerning to see how quick his fellow knights fell comfortably into the pattern.

There was no comfort here.

None at all.

-

According to the camp calendar, it was still the very day they arrived. The day the barrier dropped. But the Squad had tallied otherwise.

They’d been in here for two weeks.

Caladin was fed up with their complacency. Their lack of concern at their undying state. The fact that the only changes had been negative.

And so he let them be, and delved deep into the temple on his own.

His Tacet mark burned white hot as he followed the tingling feeling in his veins. This grew to a searing pain and vibration strong enough to rattle his armor as he found a passage behind the Dusk Father’s statue leading down.

Down into the dark.

Caladin whispered a quiet prayer, asking the Dusk Father for a pinch more luck as he stepped in.

This was his mistake.

Deep with in the bowels of the temple lay an echo chamber, partially submerged in water.

Caladin paused from his place on the stairs, cautiously eyeing the moonlight streaming in from a skylight, perfectly on the center of the room.

It was eerie. The carvings on the walls, usually depicting the cycles of Dawn and Dusk had been sanded away, cleanly and purposefully. Even with his minimal knowledge of architecture, Caladin could say that much.

He hesitated, unwilling to step on the sand stone leading to the moonlit center. The water in here wasn’t still, but there was in clear entry point. The vibrations under his skin grew stronger and his own Spectro resonance burned.

Whatever was warping their time was in this room. Caladin let a flicking of Spectro energy disperse throughout the room, feeling it circle back to him with a bit of information. Light was neat that way, capable of being sent out and bouncing back off object to give him a mental picture of his surroundings. Like a sharper pair of eyes, finding things his mortal body could not.

There seemed to be a plaque buried under the sand in the moonlit circle. It was hollow as well.

The knight sighed quietly to himself, fighting back the instinct to flee as he stepped down into the sand. His boots, designed to leave no traces on desert ground where wind blew, sunk slightly into the grainy path. The man’s gold gaze flickered across the room, carefully measuring each step. As far he could tell, there were no traps- no obvious ones. But.

He stopped just outside the moonlit circle, staring at the faint outline of the plaque in the sand covered floor. It was slightly raised, and his Spectro had indicated the source of that nasty reverberation was coming from underneath.

Dusk Father forgive him.

Caladin kneeled, sand fluttering around him as he slowly slid the plaque to the side.

The moment the space below was revealed, there was a massive, borderline painful uptick in resonance energy.

It surged through the air, sending waves of varying frequencies through Caladin’s body. His guts churned with nausea and he could vaguely register blood dripping from his nose.

Inside, the source of the chaos, was a spherical stone, pulsing ominously.

It was vile.

-

Containing the damn thing was nearly impossible, but using their Tacetite based armor to pseudo-forge a box seemed to work. The high heat produced by Cal’s Spectro and sudden cooling of Aslan’s Glacio allowed for a shoddy job, but it was a job nonetheless. The weapons reappeared during daily reset anyways.

The main problem came after. Removing the Skies damned stone (even inside its tacetite prison), seemed to increase the Tacet discord activity. It also brought those vile frequencies closer to them.

Caladin was still mentally recovering from the wreck it’d done to his body on contact- even if that had also been repaired during daily reset.

The only plus side was the effect on the barrier. The damn thing flickered everytime they got close to it with the stone.

However, this meant attempting to fight through increasingly dangerous hoards of Tacet discords with the stone- the source of all of this.

Who even knows what would happen if they took this thing outside the barrier?

Could they even bring it back for research without bringing destruction home with them?

They couldn’t even touch the thing without its frequencies shredding their organs- the tacetite box barely helping.

-

The fight to get out was rough. They’d made the most simplistic plan they could. Their fastest member, Parshati, would attempt to get the box to the barrier with the covering fire of Aslan from the temple roof, the squad on the ground, and with Caladin setting off his nukes of Spectro deep into centers of the hoards.

She had the best chance with her Aero abilities. But even then.

Caladin had been impaled twice in the past five minutes. How he had managed to miss vital organs was beyond him. A quick burst of Spectro caused enough heat to cauterize the wounds at least.

Another burst of Spectro stunned the hoard nearest to Parshati.

Burst of Glacio dotted the field from Aslan.

Nova, their havoc resonator, had succumbed to the madness hours ago. Caladin had put her down himself.

The nonresonators covering Parshati were dwindling and Caladin was too far to guard for her right now.

This…

Would they even get the daily reset if they won this, miraculously?

Caladin’s golden gaze burned a hole in Parshati- tracking her location, a mere hundred yards from the barrier.

And then she went down, Glacio piercing her head.

-

Aslan fell to the madness. The reset had still happened. But Caladin had learned something new. Resonators that fell to madness did not reset.

Both Aslan and Nova were gone.

Parshati shook violently where she was curled up by the fire.

They were back in the temple. All that was left of their squad was the handful of nonresonators and them. Two empty shells of Knights.

He could see it in her eyes, the fear. The dying light.

She would succumb next. And he did not have the words to help her.

He was close himself.

The pulsing of the stone in its tacetite prison aided him none.

But the quiet presence of his sister’s wedding photo, of Dahlia’s amulet around his throat…

Caladin would outlast.

Because he had made a promise.

Madness would not take him yet.

-

Their next attempt was immediately foiled by Parshati losing herself. Her body had dissolved into powerful winds, killing soldiers and Tacet discords alike.

In the chaos, Caladin made a decision.

-

Mission Report:

Survivors: Caladin, Knight Captain of the Sunstrider Order.

The order of Sunstrider was sent to investigate an old temple of the Dusk Father for strange frequencies. Caladin claims they were trapped there for almost a month. For Solaris, they were found three days after being dispatched.

No bodies were recovered.

Caladin returned with an amateur-forged box of tacetite containing what appears to be the source of the strange frequencies.

It’s incredibly volatile to resonators, though normal humans seem to be withable to withstand contact through tacetite material.

Further study is required.

Bless be the children felled to madness and strife. Of Dawn they fall into the embrace of Dusk.

-

One year later

Caladin’s mind ached. His nose was bleeding and his organs were steadily giving up on him.

He tore through the hordes of Tacet discords crowding the citadel’s streets.

Just up ahead, a large, worm like Tacet discord, easily large enough to swallow a windcatcher tower with ease, raged. The Skies damned thing burrowed into the ground only to pop out, gulping down groups of people, Tacet discords, and infrastructure indiscriminately.

And it radiates the same sickening, vile frequencies of that stone.

Caladin’s stomach lurched, wondering how badly the researchers of the Alliance had fucked up to produce this monstrosity.

-

The citadel fell in mere hours.

But Caladin did not.

The Etheric Sea converged above the battlefield, a highlight to his lone attempts at killing this thing.

This devil spawn.

Spectro warmed his palms.

But never made contact.

Time stilled, and that warmth stayed with him for the next hundred thousand years.

And it was all Caladin had. Both conscious and not of his frozen state.

Until a curious face came knocking.

-

WOOO THAT WAS A LOT.

I know I said I’ve been writing more of Cal being a little silly buttttt-

I hope everyone enjoyed!

For those participating in the project, feel free to add onto this!

My idea was to have a master post of the prelude to the Beneath the Sands quest. For instance, what drew your Oc to the disaster site? Are they a researcher? A local in this desert nation thousands of years later?

Please keep in mind that there was a Court of Savantae set up around Caladin’s ruins and it eventually fell into ruin itself. There’s a high chance your OCs are only aware of the CSC ruins unless they’re a local.:

Anyways, here’s the tag list. Anyone who’s interested in joining said tag list, please interact on the tag list post :3

@uncreative-cryptid

@hobbysognodilibri

@crypticrainbowmoss

@captainsounddisaster

@yupuffin

Good luck everyone!

[khaire-traveler]

This might be a silly question .. But I’ve been struggling a lot for over a year, and I’ve been neglecting my relationship with the gods more than I’d like to admit.

The most I’ve done is reach out to them for help with managing through things, I’ve barely been talking to them or reading about them (which is hard anyway because my brain barely functions half the time). I’m just struggling a lot and I don’t feel like I can handle much right now.

I think a post I saw the other day really got into my head, where it mentioned respecting your deities and not only reaching out to them when you need something. Now I’m very much dwelling on it because .. well, I’ve been only reaching out when I need help most of the time.

Should I avoid reaching out to them any further until I can do more than just ask for help when I need it?

Hey, Nonny,

I direct you to this post that I just made in response to a similar ask. I feel it answers your question pretty well, actually.

Echoing my thoughts from the aforementioned post, I believe that a deity relationship that is built solely on the expectation of giving to receive constantly is not sustainable or healthy. This is just my personal opinion, but I feel that when we put so much pressure on ourselves to give and give and give, it discourages us from ever reaching out, especially when we are unable to immediately give back. I think it's important to set boundaries for ourselves and make the deity aware that while you may now always be able to give back straight away, you do still greatly appreciate their help.

It's more than ok to ask deities for help during challenging times. I believe they probably enjoy feeling valued and trusted enough for us to turn to them for our personal problems. However, a relationship that is built solely on asking for help and nothing else is likely not the best for us or our deities. I believe it's important to build a relationship, not solely through offerings, but in more personal ways. A deity relationship does not get stronger by only showing them respect through offerings and the like; it grows stronger through time spent, interests shared, and being vulnerable with the deity. We form closer bonds with loved ones through similar means.

If you want to grow closer with deities without the expectation of giving, I recommend doing things like watching your favorite movies or shows with them, incorporating them into your day (listening to a devotional playlist or caring for yourself as a devotional act), and sharing aspects of your life with them. Communicating directly with your deity - through prayer, journaling, or other means - is also an extremely important part of forming a relationship. After all, if we don't communicate, how can we become closer?

The point of all of this is to say that you are not required to give offerings as your sole form of worship, devotion, or showing appreciation. Worship can be shown in seemingly small ways as well. I encourage you to find ways to include your deities in your day. It doesn't have to be anything big; it can be as simple as dedicating a glass of water to them and drinking it. It can even be noticing their presence in the world around, such as through the warmth of the sun or the songs of birds. Along with that, asking for help is never a bad thing. I feel deities actually enjoy it when we ask for help because it shows them that we both trust and value them. However, I will admit that a relationship solely built on asking for help likely isn't a sustainable one. This is why I suggest finding other ways, outside of giving offerings, to interact with them. I think it'll help you feel a lot less guilty about not being able to give a physical offering. It's also a great way to make your relationship feel more personal and deepen your bond with a deity. Again, I want to emphasize that asking for help is never a bad thing, but I do encourage you to explore your deity relationships in other ways as well. There's all sorts of things you can do with and for a deity. Even meditation can be a great form of interaction.

You are not doing anything morally wrong by asking a deity for help. You aren't a bad worshipper or a horrible person for relying on your deities without giving something in return. There's nothing wrong with you for that. It's ok, and I'm sure your deities are capable of understanding your reasons for not giving as much as you'd like to. Try not to beat yourself up so much. Not having the energy or emotional ability to give an offering is both completely normal and entirely understandable. I think it's best if you focus more on yourself and taking care of you for now. I believe our deities don't want us to neglect our own well-being simply to venerate them. I feel they care enough about us to want our health before an offering.

I hope this helps you to hear these things. This is all based on my personal experience, so take it for what you will. There is no single right way to worship. There are no rules. We do what we see fit, and there's nothing wrong with that. I hope you take care, Nonny, and that you feel better. I wish you the best. Have a good day/night. 🧡